


Meta-Human

by Straumoy



Series: Power Girl - Public Servant [3]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Power Girl (Comics), inFAMOUS (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crime Fighting, Drama, Gen, Mentor/Sidekick, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Limited, Superheroes, superhero training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27972254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straumoy/pseuds/Straumoy
Summary: Karen Starr and her StarrWARE company are barely scraping by, desperate to scrub off the stain left on them following the events of First Sons. Power Girl has retreated to the graveyard shift, going through the motions of uneventful patrols while staying out of the limelight. However, an earthquake rocks the state of Los Santos which pushes Power Girl into action when it reveals a Kryptonian stasis pod with a teenage girl inside. Salvaging the pod for parts, Kara now has a real shot at changing the world for the better. Though its occupant is alive and well, she exhibits powers of her own...
Series: Power Girl - Public Servant [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588474
Kudos: 2





	1. No Comment

_“_ _This matrix stands in memory of the people we once were. Though enchanted by this dream, you must remain strong, and eventually see the light of dawn. …We pray you will find meaning, and comfort, in the waking world._ _”_ The soothing voice from a distant past pulled back over Karen’s tired mind like the softest fabric. Like dried up and rusted hinges her eyelids pried themselves open, scraping against dried up contact lenses that almost got dragged along. A steady, rhythmic sound nagged at her sensitive ears from behind. Something was throwing a slight tantrum, vibrating against the bedside table. 

Weight shifted around, making the waterbed mattress slush around. The vibrating sound stopped, a dry voice groaned out something that could pass as a greeting, “Urfh… ‘ello?” 

Karen started to submerge herself into the deep, dark sea of sleep when just as she was about to go under, Arthur’s words pulled her back up, “Honey why are you calling me so late? It's kinda hard to talk right now.” 

“Honey, why are you crying? Is everything okay?” another wave rippled through the mattress before Karen sank down deeper. The startled edge to his voice dived down to a hushed tone, “I gotta whisper 'cause I can't be too loud.” 

Quiet, bare feet tip-toed across the floor. A few of the planks creaked and nudged against nails as fingers patted along the door. Arthur’s breath stopped fully just before he twisted the door handle, the metal components clacked against the stillness of the night. Karen remained still, pretending to be asleep by keeping her breathing smooth and steady. The sound of the sea lapping against the shore filled the bedroom, bringing with it a ticklish breeze of sea air salty and chilled. Then as the door closed with a muffled clunk, silence strangled all sound. Karen half peeked over her shoulder, her keen eyes adapting to the dim light. As she studied the bedroom door, her ears followed suit. Half of the conversation dripped through the cracks in the doorframe. 

“Well, my girl's in the next room- Sometimes I wish she was you,” Arthur let out a heavy sigh, “I guess we never really moved on… It's funny that you're calling me tonight. Yeah, you got me. I've dreamt of you too. Your new man… does, does he know you're talking to me? Will it start a fight? No, I don't think she has a clue.” 

Karen’s jaw tensed before she slumped back over, burying her head underneath the quilt in an effort to suffocate her keen hearing. Despite her efforts, Arthur’s chuckle and words dripped, dropped into her ears, “It's really good to hear your voice saying my name. It sounds so sweet. Coming from the lips of an angel.” Morning couldn’t come soon enough. 

A knife scraped across a slice of fresh toast, leaving behind a yellow trail of melted butter. Karen’s wrist worked fast and precise, her eyes focused on the task at hand rather than Arthur who sat across the breakfast table. He stifled a yawn before taking a sip of his coffee, its steam tickling through his blonde beard. The washed-out t-shirt he wore struggled to contain his broad chest and thick arms. As tantalizing as the view was, Karen ate her breakfast. Her gaze visited the vista beyond their kitchen window more than her lover. A finger traced along the edge of her glass, “Arthur, we need to talk.” 

He glanced up from his coffee cup, “Uh… okay.” 

“This isn’t working, is it? I mean, look at us.” 

The newspaper got put aside in a hasty rustle as Arthur straightened in his seat, “Karen I- I must confess that I don’t follow. We’re just having breakfast.” 

“Really? That’s your confession?” 

He spread his hands out helplessly, a silent plea for innocence. Or perhaps some last-ditch effort to keep his cake and eat it. Karen sunk back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest as she looked him straight in the eye, “Who’s Mera?” 

Arthur’s shoulders sank. Crude and strong fingers, sculped through years of hard, honest manual labor, ran through his shoulder long hair. He licked his lips, eyes reading some unseen text in his mind before he said, “My ex.” 

“The one that has the lips of an angel?” Karen watched as he hid his face behind his hands, a distorted groan forced its way through the cracks of his fingers. “Or is that another one?” 

“You were awake? It’s- it was just a call, she was… she’s in a tough spot right now.” 

She nodded, rocking slightly in her seat, “Must be really though since she called you at two in the morning.” 

“What would have me do? Just hang up on her? I’m disappointed in you Karen. Never took you for being that heartless.” 

Karen pinched the bridge of her nose, “Stars above that’s not- support your friends, cheer on your ex, just- don’t dream about her, wish that I was more like her or sneak off to whisper sweet nothings over the phone in the middle of the night!” 

The tableware clattered, a pinch of juice splashed out of her glass, “Forget it. I’ve got to get going, I’m already late for work.” 

“Karen, wait! Give me a minute to get ready and I’ll give you a lift.” 

“Pass, I’ll walk thank you very much! You can keep the clothes, maybe they’ll fit Mera when she comes back,” she said before closing the front door with a slam. 

A seagull let out a startled cry as Karen zoomed by it as if shot out of a rocket. Hovering in mid-air she heard Arthur stumble around in the driveway, his flipflops scraping against the gravel as he called out her name. The panic in his voice grew as there was no response or any sight of her. He dashed towards the El Gordo Lighthouse, almost tripping down the concrete stairs in the process. She heard her name echoing over the crashing waves of the pacific. Teeth found her lower lip as she continued to watch Arthur’s frantic search, the grip on her shoulder bag strap tightened. Curses hung underneath his breath as he disappeared into the house and came out shortly after, got in the car, and drove off. Karen inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times before looking off to the distance where the Los Santos skyline stood, greeting the new day. 

* * *

“Uh, Ms. Starr?” 

“What?” the word came out with a bite. 

Dexter flinched and pressed his tablet close to his chest, “Is- is everything okay? You- you don’t look so good.” 

Karen puffed her ruffled bangs out of the way. Her hair was all over the place thanks to her swift flight across the state and her abrupt breakup with Arthur kept her from applying her make-up, “I overslept.” 

He didn’t look too convinced, yet it was clear that he didn’t dare to press the issue any further. Another PMS joke to crack together with the boys later no doubt. Clawing through her hair to give it something resembling a decent shape, Karen said, “You wanted to show me something?” 

“Yeah, yes. This thing here,” he handed her the tablet. 

“Huh, the new iPad, right? Neat,” she examined the device, testing its weight in her hand. “What’s with all this animated hellfire? Some sort of screen… color test?” 

“Not quite, this is an idea I’ve been kicking around for the past few months. It’s a game. Living card game, actually.” 

She stopped in her tracks and gave him a skeptical look. A sigh later she handed the tablet back to him, “Alright… let’s hear it, your sales pitch.” 

Dexter sat down opposite Karen’s desk and explained his idea, a digital living card game. While inspired by the collectible card games of his childhood, this was quite different. Instead of randomized starter decks and booster packs, LCGs would have core sets, expansion packs, and deluxe expansions with a fixed non-randomized distribution of cards. They’d start with core sets which would come with pre-constructed starter decks and would be designed to be self-contained. These could be played by themselves or expanded for constructed play with expansions. 

“These core sets, will we be charging for them or?” 

“I haven’t given it much thought. Sorry. But, but Ms. Day figured they should be behind some sort of paywall.” 

“Of course. How about… we offer them for free, but sneak in ads. Then give players an option to pay to get rid of said ads?” 

Dexter pondered for a moment, then nodded, “Yeah… we could put the ads between matches. Maybe tweak the UI a little to make space for ads that aren’t too intrusive.” 

“Look Dex… I’m going to level with you. I’m not sold on this idea. Not yet. It’s a cool little project, and games are neat. But… money is still kind of tight right now.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get that, I do Ms. Starr, but, but I’m not done yet.” 

“Oh?” Karen tilted her head, “There’s more?” 

Dexter carried on his sales pitch by expanding on his ideas for expansion packs. These would be released on a monthly or near-monthly basis, each containing sixty cards, with a number of copies of each unique card equal to the limit of the number of copies a player is allowed in his or her deck. Deluxe expansions would be released less frequently, and he envisioned them containing a total of one hundred and sixty-five new cards, still with enough copies of each card for a full deck. 

“And these… these are the ones that we’ll put behind the paywall.” 

“Hook them in with addictive gameplay and then go for their wallets. I can see that Ophelia’s money sense has rubbed off on you, Dex.” 

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “Yeah, well what can I say? Money makes the world go around after all.” 

“Sad but true,” Karen put the tablet down. “Heaven's Hellfire, huh? Catchy name. Alright, what are we looking at, expenses wise?” 

“A lot of the base game is already made, I poked at it whenever I was compiling code. Some more polish and testing and we’re good to go.” 

She nodded, leaning back in her seat, “We don’t have many resources to sink into this, so start small. Barbra is free, I think. She can help you with testing and debugging. Prove to me that you can keep it afloat. Make a profit out of it and we can talk about additional resources.” 

“Yes, Ms. Starr. Thank you.” 

* * *

The driver’s door to Andrew’s Asea sedan closed with a thud. Andrew adjusted the strap on his trusty and worn shoulder bag while looking up at the building in front of him. It was a far cry from the shiny FBI headquarters located on the intersection of Power Street and San Andreas Avenue in Pillbox Hill, Downtown Los Santos. Not just the building itself. The very neighborhood was not what one would expect to see when visiting Power Girl’s agent. Or was it the manager? Andrew frowned at the lack of clarity. Regardless, this was the one and pretty much only place one could go to in order to get comments from the lady herself. Never ever in person though. Always via her proxy, Maxwell Lord. 

Inside Andrew got greeted by an out of order note half-heartedly taped to the elevator doors. He dismissed it as a prank, given the lack of professional touch to the note itself. Though the elevators' lack of response proved it to be true. Muttering to himself under his breath, Andrew took the stairs. At least his gym membership was starting to pay off. Dressed conservatively, with a nod toward film noir detective styling, Andrew sort of fit down with the rundown look and feel to this place. All it needed was a voice-over narrating his state of mind and the picture would be complete. As he approached the office door, hand raised to knock on the glass, he heard half of a conversation. A phone call by the sound of it, “Yes. Yes, Friday sounds good. Half-past two, yes. Thank you. Yes.” 

He waited for a beat before knocking on the glass, “Yes? Come in.” 

Max looked like a mess. His tie was loosened up to the point where it appeared almost like a noose, shirt buttoned up three buttons and both sleeves were rolled up over the elbow. Sweat marks stained his armpits. His skin was pale and his eyes looked tired. It caught Andrew off guard, causing him to pause in the doorway. A beat passed before he said, “You... you okay, Max?” 

“Andrew. Come in, come in. Have seat. I- uh...” he picked up his cigar and started reorganizing his messy desk. “It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. These... Wayne people, they really don’t know how to take no for an answer. Devin Weston is also stirring the pot. You'd think that in this day and age that- that grown men would listen and respect a grown woman’s decision. Even if she’s from another planet.” 

Andrew gathered a notebook and fountain pen from his bag, “Sounds rough. Do you need a minute?” 

“No. No, no... I'm-” Max nodded to himself. “I’m good. Thanks. What, uh, what can I help you with today, Andrew?” 

He looked at his note and scoffed. It was probably the last thing Max needed to be added on an already tall and steaming pile of shit. But shaking his head, Max said, “This cult... and the subjects that were experimented upon.” 

Puffing his cigar, Max made a disgusted face. Whether it was because Andrew was the bringer of bad news or because the cigar had lost its flavor was hard to tell. Either way, he put it aside, “I’ve got to admit Andrew, I've not talked to the police about this. Have you?” 

“Yeah, they sent me to you. No further comment.” 

“Son of a... bitch!” both hands ran down his face, smearing and stretching his skin as they went. 

“I’m on your side on this one. But my editor wants to know, Max. What is Power Girl doing about it?” 

“She’s- she’s handling it. Working on it.” 

“Max...” 

“I know.” 

“She’s been handling it for almost a year now.” 

“I know.” 

“They’re still at large.” 

“I said I know damnit!” his fist hit the desk, rattling the cigar out of the ashtray. 

Andrew leaned forward in his seat, “Come on Max. Talk to me. Give me another bone I can throw to those dogs. I'm not the enemy here.” 

Max nodded as he tasted his cigar, “I hear you. You've been on her side ever since she broke the crimson drug case. Made a bit of a name for yourself in the process. She's even mentioned you by name a few times.” 

He smiled, a row of pearly white teeth stood in stark contrast to his black beard and mustache, “She’s the best thing that ever happened to this city if you ask me. Criminals are running scared because of her. Hell, some just give up as soon as they see her. But Max, I really want to shut up her haters.” 

The cigar rested between the index and long finger as Max’s hand massaged his chin. A thin trail of pale blue cigar smoke spiraled and twisted through the air. Its rich aroma filled the office. He sighed and spread out his hands in a helpless gesture, “Sorry Andrew. I got nothing.” 

“Really? Nothing? Not a single damn thing?” 

“Power Girl doesn’t really discuss the details of how she’s working with me. The nitty-gritty planning, tactics and, and strategy of police work... she talks with police about these things. The FBI, that agent... Kuo? Maybe she’s got something.” 

Andrew flipped through his notes, “Nope. She’s not available for comment. Just left the state working on chasing down that Bertrand fellow. He was with the cult.” 

“Well, I hope they catch that son of a bitch. Sick fuck,” he made a face at the cigar in his hand and put it away. “Let me level with you, Andrew. I'll- I'll mention you came by, okay? And... try to get you a little something, something. Deal?” 

Andrew nodded. Closed his notebook and tucked away his fountain pen. Rising he said, “It’d be great if I could talk to her myself.” 

“That’s going to be a hard no, I’m afraid.” 

“Figured as much. No harm in asking though.” He started for the door. Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, he looked back and asked, “Max. You okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm- I'm... well, not great, but you know me. Hanging in there,” Max chuckled in spite of himself. The chuckle drowned in a rough cough. “Oh jeez... no need to lose any sleep over my account. I've got a doctor’s appointment. I'll get this sorted.” 

“I hope so. Ever since Power Girl’s attack on StarrWARE you've been... in decline if you don’t mind me saying.” 

Max scoffed, “Well can you blame me? That was and still is a PR nightmare. Best we could come up with was to simply duck, hide and ride off the storm.” 

“Well, hang in there, Max. You're one of the good ones. We gotta look after one another. Can't afford the bad guys to win.” 

* * *

The sandy texture of her nano-machine bracers scraped against the back of Power Girl’s hand as she yet again got ready for the graveyard shift. Her face contorted as she held back a yawn. Fiddling the earpiece into place, she locked the ceiling door at StarrWARE office before taking to the skies. A good hundred feet up, Power Girl stopped her ascent only to dive back down again, “It’s okay. Nobody saw a thing.” 

She put the ceiling door key away behind some potted plants and rose above the skyline once more. The sun had already set, below her feet, the dark city had been divided by the many rivers of light that stretched far and wide. Another yawn escaped her. So much for the chill night air waking her up. As nice as a quiet shift would be, it didn’t take long before Power Girl got her first call for the night, “Attention all units, neighbors report a ten-thirty over at 2884 Hillcrest Avenue.” 

“Dispatch, this is PG. I’m heading there now.” 

“Copy that PG.” 

As soon as Power Girl arrived on the scene, she secured an overview of the place. The house was surrounded by a gate, similar to many other homes in Vinewood Hills. During her descent Power Girl noted that the building itself consisted of an open-air garage where vehicles were parked and a large patio behind the home. The house was built over a rocky cliff, making it somewhat dangerous to live in even with the support beams that held up the patio. Square in the center of the open-air garage a small group of people stood towering over some poor fool that tried his best to crawl away. His injuries made this quite challenging. 

The moment her feet touched the ground, Power Girl approached the group from behind with a confident stride. Without a word she grabbed hold of the baseball bat that the leader of the group raised for another strike, “Mr. Madrazo, good evening sir. Kind of late to take the boys out batting, don’t you think?” 

Mr. Madrazo flinched at her words and pivoted around, “You?! You again? Blondie, you come here to arrest this little prick?” 

She glanced down at the bruised and bloodied man. One eye swollen shut, heavy nose bleed from a broken nose and only partially dressed. In the back, closer to the main entrance stood Natalia Zverovna. Then, for the lack of a better term, the lady of the house. Whether she was smoking or biting her nails was hard to tell. Either way, she fidgeted around as much as her many beauty surgeries allowed. Turning her focus back to Mr. Madrazo, Power Girl snatched the baseball bat out of his hand. His goons flinched; hands half moved on muscle memory alone towards weapons. Thankfully this batch had their judgment intact. Power Girl examined the baseball bat, fresh blood glinted under the street light, “Mr. Madrazo. We’ve talked about name-calling, now haven’t we, sir?” 

He snarled at first before reeling in his temper, “Yes ma’am.” 

“Good,” she flashed him a polite smile. Addressing the man of the ground she said, “And you good sir, who may you be?” 

He spat out some blood before he said, “Kyle Chavis.” 

“Mr. Chavis. Okay then. Can you stand it?” Power Girl offered her hand to him. 

“Y-yeah, I thin- Owh, owh, owh! That- that hurt.” 

“Dispatch, this is PG. I have a ten-eighty-two on my location. We’re going to need a ten-eighty-five,” Power Girl reported before giving Mr. Chavis her full attention. “Look, Mr. Chavis, why don’t we step over here and you can tell me all about your evening.” 

Mr. Chavis started rather upset, though calmed down as he cycled through the events of the evening. He insisted that everything was in order, no foul play on his end. As the story went, he’d given Natalia her tennis lesson as usual. Things turned sour when after the lesson, his car broke down. Unable to get a signal on his phone, Mr. Chavis trekked back on foot to Natalia to borrow her phone. The car got towed and she offered him pay for his taxi. They ended chatting while waiting for the taxi to arrive and lost track of time. 

“And then?” 

“Then? This- asshole and his thugs came in, and smashed my face with a bat!” 

One of Power Girl’s eyebrows raised with suspicion, “Uh-huh. And the… pants around your ankles? Another prank they pulled on you?” 

“Yes! Just, just look at them. They’re not in any shape to catch me on foot! Of course, they had to cheat.” 

“Now, now. Calm down, Mr. Chavis. Another thing, you see I’m curious about the lipstick marks on your shirt,” she waved in the ambulance as it approached. “But we can talk about that after the EMT’s had a look at you.” 

The whole street bathed in the flashing lights of the ambulance. Power Girl stared down Mr. Madrazo, the bat bouncing lightly off her shoulder, “So then, Mr. Madrazo. What’s your story?” 

“This prick was fuckin’ my girl!” 

“Ouch. That stings. Look, as much as I can sympathize, beating someone senseless with a baseball bat is about,” Power Girl measured a good distance with her hands, “this much over the line.” 

Mr. Madrazo clicked his tongue. The scorn never really left his eyes. Flipping his chin towards the ambulance, he said, “Hey doc! Word on the street is that prick has a little dick.” 

Without skipping a beat, Mr. Chavis replied, “Little dick? I guess it’s more of a snack than a five-course meal. Probably why your woman keeps coming back for seconds!” 

Power Girl’s quick chuckle died down as Mr. Madrazo’s lunged forward, “You son of bitch! I’ll kill you!” 

She locked his neck inside her arm, stopping him dead in his tracks, “Down boy, down! Looks like you and your boys are going to spend the night in jail, alright? Now let me fix you, fine gentlemen, a ride.” 

From here on out, Power Girl’s shift went down the drain. It was never anything big, but there was never a sense of catching her breath. Usually, when there was a busy shift, time tends to fly by like speeding bullets. But for some reason, this particular shift just dragged on for the better part of eternity. When the clock finally showed six AM, Power Girl praised the stars and slumped back to StarrWARE office. After peeling off her suit and taking a quick shower, make-up got applied along with a fresh set of contact lenses. Her hair was only half-dried, but it would have to do. Power Girl entered; Karen Starr left ready to face another busy day at the office. 

* * *

“Oh why, oh why have you stopped working, huh?” Karen dropped herself down in a chair and squinted her eyes at the bright monitor. The StarrWARE office was dark and deserted. “Let’s see… Semantic errors. Okay. Where are you, you little runts?” 

“Ms. Starr?” 

Karen jolted in her seat and jerked around, “Stars above! You scared the shit out of me Hitomi.” 

Hitomi bowed her head in apology, “I’m sorry for startling you. It’s rare that anything catches you by surprise.” 

“Yeah well,” she yawned, “things have been rather hectic. Plus, I’m not feeling too good. There’s this… gut feeling that something’s off, but I can’t put my finger on just what it might be.” 

“Have you talked to Dr. Cross?” 

“No,” Karen returned to the error message on the monitor. 

“Would you like me to make an appointment?” 

“No, it’s not that big of a deal. Probably just something I ate,” the clacking of the mechanical keyboard stopped and she looked over her shoulder. “What are you doing here anyway? It’s almost ten PM. Shouldn’t you be on the yacht, tending to the guests?” 

“Michael Jon Carter canceled at the last minute.” 

“He did what? Okay, did he say anything as to why?” 

Hitomi shook her head, “But Ted speculated that it might be money-related. That’s what the sports news are gossiping about now anyway.” 

“Shit… I was kind of hoping to get some of that sweet star quarterback money,” Karen massaged her face, groaning into her palms. “How in the world am I supposed to keep all this afloat? My version of the American dream is mutating into a nightmare. Appreciate the heads up, though next time just calls or send a text.” 

“Actually…” 

“There’s more?” 

“While we were docked, Arthur came by. He was quite upset, worried that you’d killed yourself or been kidnapped since you left without a trace.” 

Karen deflated in her seat, swinging from side to side while making incomprehensible sounds of complaints, “Please, please tell me he didn’t go to the authorities. The last thing I need right now is-” She straightened, alert like a great cat, “Do you feel that?” 

Hitomi glanced around in the quiet office. Aside from late-night traffic and the humming of the air conditioning the place was quiet as a grave, “No ma’am.” 

“Huh… alright. Maybe’s just my imagination then.” 

“You have been working yourself very hard this last year, long days working here and then straight into the graveyard shift with the police.” 

“It can’t be helped, now can it? No matter how you looked at it, we were in a tough spot. Courtesy of yours truly,” she threw her arms up in the air. “Smashed servers, media going nuts over Power Girl’s rampage and hardly anyone on this side of the Pacific wants to do business with a company that unknowingly stored child porn on their servers. Did I miss something?” 

“Chartering your home helps shave some of the costs off, but I still don’t think it's healthy for you to work as hard as you do. At least not for as long as you do.” 

Karen rubbed some sleep out of her eye, “I’m fine Hitomi, I’m fine.” 

“If I may, truthfully I think things were going to work out with you and Arthur-” Hitomi got cut off as a rumble rattled the building. Monitors flickered, dust trickled down from the ceiling and an array of office stationaries shook off the many desks around them. 

“Hitomi, get down!” Karen pushed her down and shielded her with her large frame as best she could. Outside car alarms blared to life and at least one monitor crashed into the floor. The outer windows cracked and a few glass panels that separated the meeting room from the office space exploded into a million tiny shards. Agonizing seconds dragged by until finally, at the end of what seemed like an eternity and a half, it stopped. 

Karen remained alert, cautious as she rose to her full height. She took a moment to assure herself that the office itself was safe before offering her hand to Hitomi, “You okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” 

She looked shaken, yet composure was returning to her face, “I’m- I’m good. Really.” 

“Sorry about this, but I’ve got to go.” 

Hitomi nodded, “I understand ma’am. Go and help, I’ll let the others know.” 


	2. Star People

Power Girl cut through the skies, below her hundreds of car alarms, screamed out for attention. A thousand things appeared to be happening at the same second. For a moment it was overwhelming, almost paralyzing. Looking down, it was incomprehensible that so much damage got done in a mere twelve seconds. Snapping out of her dazed admiration, Power Girl went to work. She focused on the people, getting them to safety by clearing a path for them using her impressive strength. Broken arms and legs were given makeshift splints, wounds that often looked more horrifying than they really were got bandaged with whatever she had at hand, and Power Girl’s hearing proved vital in locating people caught in the rubble. On a few occasions, she even used her heat vision to slice through metal beams that were in her way.

Things turned from bad to worse when Power Girl assisted with the evacuation in Little Seoul. One of the buildings leaned heavily on its neighbor. It was impossible for the residents on the upper floor to make it to the ground level. Power Girl floated up to one of the windows and started shuttling people down. As she was cradling a Korean grandfather in her strong arms, the gas station across the street exploded. The shockwave threw her off balance and pushed her towards the wall. At the last second Power Girl managed to shift around so that her shoulder took the brunt of the damage while her precious passenger remained safe. A million shards of glass rained down on the street. Power Girl’s ears stung with pain, a piercing ringing sound drowned out all but the closest and loudest noises.

A wall of strong heat ran its thick, broad tongue over Power Girl’s back and side. Rounding the corner, she found some shade where she put down the grandfather, “Sir? Sir, are you hurt?”

The man’s mouth moved, but she didn’t catch a single sound. On one hand, she wanted to be sure this elderly man was alright. But on the other, there was this literal wall of fire-spewing up from where the gas station once stood. People rushed to her side. Judging by how they interacted with the man Power Girl took them for relatives or friends of his. Communication boiled down to fragmented English, grateful smiles, and awkward thumbs up, but it was enough for her. Power Girl stepped into the main street and surveyed the area. The strong heat that the intense fire vomited out kept people at bay. Even so, there was always that one sucker who tried to brave the flames, “HEY! You! Get back, it’s not safe!”

There wasn’t much Power Girl could do about the fire on her lonesome. The best she could do was report it in, check on the surrounding populace, keep them away from the site, and wait for the fire department to arrive. While she circled the scene, making sure that people kept their distance, a little boy darted up to her and tugged on her cape. His face was a mess of snot, tears, and concrete dust. A tiny finger jabbed off to a side street. Without a thought, Power Girl scooped the kid up in her arms and jogged over. On the ground lay a young woman. Single mother? Aunt? Older sister? It didn’t matter, she was hurt. It was a horrifying sight to take in. Her skin was ghostly pale, sweating buckets with both hands clutched to a wound on her side. Blood poured out between her fingers. By the looks of it, she’d been cut by a falling piece of glass.

Power Girl strained her ears. Her hearing had not recovered just yet, so she couldn’t pick up any sign of approaching fire trucks. It was clear that this young woman had little to no time left. Power Girl mounted the young woman’s thighs as she snatched a piece of metal and heated it up with her heat vision, “Look at me, ma’am. Everything will be alright. I promise. Now, this is going to hurt. A lot. Take my finger, bite on it.”

The woman’s expression shifted from peaceful exhaustion to horror as she realized what Power Girl’s plan was. Before she could muster a word of protest, Power Girl put her finger between the woman’s teeth. Her breath turned shallow and rapid; her teeth dug into the finger. Eyes closed; hands parted away from her wound. Without missing a beat, Power Girl pressed the heated metal against it. The iron smell of blood intertwined with that of burned flesh. A muffled scream barely tickled through the ringing in Power Girl’s ears. The young woman’s heels hammered against the ground in pain, her legs squirmed in some feeble attempt to escape the agony. Then it was over.

Discarding the metal shard, Power Girl went to work on her cape. A fistful of cloth got torn off, she bundled it together and handed it to the boy. Carefully she guided his small hands to the burned wound, “Hold it here, see? Nice and firm, okay? I’ll go and get the doctor.”

Power Girl shot straight up and scanned the surrounding neighborhoods with her keen eyesight. Over at Crusade Road, she spotted what she was looking for, an ambulance. There she found an EMT and explained the situation. He assured her that they’d head there as soon as they’d wrap up their work here. She was about to take to the skies once more when an aftershock rocked the ground. It didn’t take long before dispatch hailed all available units to head over to Paleto Bay. An avalanche on the north-west side of Mount Chiliad had hit the nearby town. Without hesitation, Power Girl cut upwards and pivoted around before shooting straight for the tall mountain in the distance.

Once on the scene, Power Girl spent the remainder of the day helping to look for survivors. A train got caught in the landslide, but thankfully no one was on board when it happened. Some farmland had gotten swallowed completely by the avalanche, which stretched all the way down to the Great Ocean Highway. Red's Machine Supplies also got hit, which was where Power Girl looked for survivors. It wasn’t until the late hours of the evening that Power Girl finally called it quits. As she drifted in the air, taking a slow leisure flight back home, it became apparent that she was running on fumes. Gravity’s grip on her, even though she was flying, was firmer than usual. She contemplated whether it be best to cut over Mount Chiliad or fly around it when something caught her eye. By the mountainside, deep in the shadows, an object shimmered with a pale light. Curious, Power Girl descended to investigate.

A small mudslide had unearthed something akin to a metallic coffin. It emanated this pale, almost moon-like light with a slow, steady pulsation. Still partially covered in mud and dirt it was hard to make out the details. Power Girl circled around it a few times as a tingling sense of nostalgia plucked at the back of her mind. As she stepped up to brush away some of the dirt, her bracer flared up with spikes going in every direction. Taken aback, Power Girl yanked her hand back. Clutching her wrist, she mumbled, “What in the world? What are you…?”

She tried again, same response. Her fingers worked fast with swapping away some dirt before pulling back. The metal underneath the dirt was in surprisingly good condition. Though the toppled over tree that lay next to the coffin suggested that this thing, whatever it was, hadn’t been recently buried. Judging by the looks of things, the avalanche toppled the tree and its roots dragged this coffin out in the day. Most peculiar. Power Girl squatted down and squinted in the dark night. For a long minute, she examined the exposed metal. Then, her eyes went wide, “No… that’s not- how’s that possible?”

There were markings on the metal. Carvings if you will. Filled with dirt it was a bit hard to make out at first, but there was no mistaking it upon closer inspection. These were Kryptonian letters, carefully carved into the metal.

* * *

“Will this do?” Cliff Steele, the first mate on Karen’s yacht, handed over a bucket of water.

She inspected the bucket, slushing in the water were several glow sticks and a sponge. Satisfied she nodded, “It’ll have to do. Sorry I dropped in on you without notice. How’s everyone holding up?”

“The crew is a bit shaken, but keeping it together. Our guests, however, they’re anxious.”

Karen nodded, “First time?”

“That and they saw the avalanche on the news,” Cliff nodded towards the San Chianski Mountain Range. Their towering silhouette blocked out the night sky with a massive slab of blackness. “They wanna move the yacht away from those.”

Karen started to ascend into the air and about ten feet up in the air she stopped, “Rose?”

“Still keeps to her cabin. Hitomi has tried to coax her out, get her to gradually interact with the guests but…”

“I see… good night Cliff, stay safe.”

Her flight was short and on the slow and steady side, as not to spill the water from the bucket. A couple of minutes later she arrived at her destination. Just north-east of the Palmer-Taylor power station was a coastal cave where Karen had hidden the Kryptonian relic. Her feet touched the ground softly as she cracked a glow stick in her hand. A sickly green color filled the immediate area around her. It was far from ideal, though Karen’s keen eyesight made up for the lackluster light source. She paced around the relic like a cautious cat, inspecting it as light and shadow twisted over the relic’s contours in some perverse dance. The rain had partially cleaned it off, though mud and dirt still cluttered its crevasses.

Sponge in hand she went to work, cleaning the relic. She made a few more trips back to the yacht where Cliff had set aside a hose for freshwater so she could refill her bucket. An hour or so of work later and it was as clean as she could get it given her circumstance’s and she could study its details more clearly. The craftsmanship was impeccable, it reminded her of her own craft. Though it was apparent that this relic was from a different era. If Karen were to guess, she’d say that her craft was in part a crude imitation of this magnificent piece of engineering. Writings were carved into the side of the relic. She squinted her eyes as her fingers traced over them, “Cryopod… Some sort of stasis device? But why would they leave it down here? An ejected capsule from a sunken ship, like, like a lifeboat perhaps?”

Karen ruffled her hair, scratching it. Outside the cave, far towards to the distant east the first traces of dawn cut the night sky off from the deep dark sea. She circled the pod a few more times, mind racing. When her fingers traced over a slated panel at the top, its fine sandpaper-like texture flickered to life. Bringing her glow stick closer, Karen studied the panel's response to her touch. It looked and felt all too familiar, just the way her bracers acted to her touch. The shallow textured pool rippled and shifted, rising and sinking until a user interface of sorts took shape. Karen exhaled with a sharp wave, only now realizing that at some point she’d stopped breathing. She looked over the instructions on the panel and frowned. There were similarities to the language she’d learned, but yet it was also foreign to her. With a cautious finger, she explored the interface. Thankfully it shared a lot of design principles of human user interfaces. Most crucially pop-up messages that asked her to confirm her choice. Erroring on the side of caution, Karen didn’t commit to anything just yet.

After much exploring, Karen got confident in navigating the user interface and although a lot of the text meaning alluded her, there was one setting in particular that had caught her eye, “Okay so if I’m looking at this correctly- this thing here, this is something about windows. And this top panel here kind of looks like a window. Except it’s not transparent. So… my hypothesis is that this is something like electrochromic glass. Push the button and it turns transparent. Right? Right.”

She took a trembling breath to steady her nerves, fingers curled into fists before a lonesome finger braved the daunting task of pressing the button. Both the top panel as well as several on either side appeared to dissolve, revealing the pod’s content. A gasp escaped Karen, “A person?!”

The person, a girl in her mid-teens by the looks of it, was nude and looked like she was sleeping. Her hands rested on top of her chest. With just looks to go on, Karen couldn’t see anything that distinguished the girl from just about any other human. Her hair was shoulder length and black as night. A long minute drag by with Karen squashing her nose up against the glass when her eyes, if at all possible, went wider still, “She’s breathing… She’s alive!”

Karen’s hands trembled so much that she almost dropped her cellphone into the sea as she tried to dial Dr. Cross. Being this deep into a cave meant that she had no coverage, so without even thinking it over, she flew just outside the cave. The sunlight was blindingly bright as it danced and sparked over the sea, the sun still hanging fairly low on the horizon. Waves rolled up and licked the coast as her call connected, “Doc? Doc you there? It’s me, Karen.”

“It’s awfully early…”

“I need your help, can I come to pick you up?”

“What? Like, right now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be-” she cut herself short when she realized she was hovering mid-air in plain sight for all the world to see. It wouldn’t have been too bad had she wore her suit, but that was not the case. Her cheeks blushed as she sunk back down on the ground, “Look, uh… I need to grab my stuff, but then I’ll come and get you. Okay?”

“Just hold on, slow down. What do you need help with?”

“I’ll explain when I come over. See you then.”

After a quick clothing change and a flight trip later, Dr. Cross was brought before the cryopod. Now fully up to speed, he scratched the side of his cheek while wearing a skeptical face, “Ideally I’d say we ought to do this under more controlled circumstances.”

“Yeah, yeah… but where would that be? At your clinic? It’s going to be hard to sneak this fridge-sized tech inside unnoticed. And don’t look at me, my yacht is currently chartered out to some… I don’t know, someone with money to spare,” Karen reached over her shoulder, trying to catch hold of the zipper. “Care to help me out here?”

Dr. Cross put down his medical bag and pulled down the zipper for her, “I thought you liked wearing the suit?”

“Yeah, but it got dirty and sweaty after the whole earthquake shenanigans. Haven’t got a chance to wash it yet. Yuck!”

“You do know that this can’t go on forever? Eventually, we’re going to have to ask for help.”

Karen stopped, the top half of her suit dangling around her waist, “Last time doc, pinky promise.”

“If this girl is a Kryptonian, she might die the moment we wake her up from this… this… what did you call it again?”

“Cryopod. It’s similar to the one on my ship and I’m still here, aren’t I?” she sat down on a rock and pulled off one boot. “Look doc, I know there are risks. But I’d rather regret that I tried and failed than not doing anything at all. And you’re the only other expert on Kryptonian physiology that I trust.”

“Expert might be stretching it…”

“Confidence doc, have some confidence.”

Dr. Cross sighed and studied the pod as well as its occupant. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “By the way, should you really be undressing? If this girl needs more help than I can provide, shouldn’t Power Girl rush her to the hospital?”

“Ah…” Karen stopped wrestling with her other boot, which for some reason proved stubbornly attached to her foot. “I- I’m trying to win you over with cheap sex appeal?”

He shook his head, “I’m your doctor, you’re not showing me anything that I haven’t already seen. Now come over here and let’s get this over with.”

Her mouth curved into a smile before getting dressed again. When she joined him by the cryopod, she carried herself worthy of the task at hand. Navigating through the menus on the pod, Karen translated the text to the best of her ability to Dr. Cross. Together they formed a plan of what they thought would be the best course of action. Commands got inputted and confirmed. For a brief moment, there was nothing, but then the pod came to life. At first, the light inside the pod grew brighter, then a calm, steady humming sound filled the cave. Metallic mechanisms clicked and clacked with a rigid and sharp sound before the lid itself came loose with a slight thud.

The two of them exchanged glances before Karen carefully lifted the lid open as far as it would go. Chilled airbrushed up against her skin, making the hair on her arms stand up to attention. She sniffed the air but didn’t catch anything out of the ordinary. Just the salty smell of seawater intertwined with seaweed. The girl’s skin was cold to the touch, her face at peace while her breath remained calm and steady. Dr. Cross did some quick checks before he gave an optimistic nod, “She’s just asleep as far as I can tell. It’s best if we just let her wake up on her own. We- we can take her to my clinic and I’ll monitor her.”

Karen pulled her cape over the girl, wrapping her up in it as a makeshift blanket before scooping her up in her arms, “The clinic isn’t open yet, right?”

Dr. Cross nodded and handed her the key, “Just put her to bed and come get me. Give her an easy flight.”

“Will do doc, see you in a sec.”

* * *

Andrew gave mirthless laugh. The only desk where the ceiling lamp got shaken loose and shatter in a lake of broken glass just had to be his and his alone. He had always proved to be a master of procrastination when it came to tidying up his desk. Apparently, the universe got tired of his shit. Janitors were all tied up with more pressing issues. Earthquakes tend to shake things up. Pun intended. The classic combo of broom and sweeping board handled the bulk of the job. The chair and floor got cleaned up in a couple of minutes. The desk, however, was another beast. Books, papers, old newspapers, a keyboard, a mouse, a monitor, a penholder, and a platoon of old half-full coffee cups made the job insufferable. Glass shards everywhere. Just how was he supposed to handle the cups, with their cold week-old coffee and shards at the bottom? Toss it out in the sink? Like all of it?

“Wilson, my office.”

Holding a couple of coffee cups as if they were filled with toxic waste, Andrew sighed to himself, “Why can’t it just rain?”

He stepped into the editor’s office, closing the door behind him. This dark-skinned man had a disciplined feel about him. By the looks of it, he’d spent the night at the office. His shirt, wrinkled and unbuttoned exposed the small wound on his torso which, according to the gossip central on third, resulted from a fight years before. He had a wide face with a square jaw, a narrow nose, large ears, smooth cheeks, and narrow lips. His green eyes were deep-set, overshadowed by his thick eyebrows. As per tradition, he wore scruffy, garish clothes that were mostly colorful and slightly too big and no jewelry. His distinctive turban stayed as a universal constant in a chaotic and hectic world, “Power Girl. What do you have for me?”

“Not much, Mr. Samar. Still collecting pieces.”

“You think she’s hiding?”

Andrew blinked, “What? No. No, of course not. Things are just hectic right now. From what little I’ve gathered, she did what she could.”

Mr. Samar nodded. The kind of subtle nod that merely humored an idea while at the same time dismissed it. Inhaling he said, “I guess it’s to be expected. Never send a woman to do a man’s job.”

“Mr. Samar, that’s hardly fair,” he said before muttering to himself, “not to mention sexist.”

“No? Where was she last year, hm? A few firecrackers were all it took to scare that-” Mr. Samar bit back his word. “She ran away Wilson. That’s a fact.”

“Stop calling them firecrackers. That tasteless joke never was and never will be funny. They were bombs. People would have died if it weren’t for Power Girl.”

He planted both fists on his desk, resting his weight on his knuckles much like a gorilla, “People did die, Wilson. I’m pretty sure you got that memo. You bending over backward to defender her and all.”

Andrew held his breath for a moment and released it, “I was and still am very sorry for your loss. But if you have something to say, Mr. Samar, please come out and say it straight.”

The challenge hung in the air between the two men. Mr. Samar scoffed, the corner of his mouth curved into a smile, “Power Girl isn’t worth it anymore. We celebrate heroes. Not cowards who quit when things get though, leaving things half done. You’ve still got contacts in the vice squad, right? That Burch lady?”

“We haven’t talked in weeks, but yeah.”

“Get to it then, and come back with a story that’s at least worth the ink we’re going to spend on it.”

He held out his arms, “Give me a few more days. Power Girl wouldn’t just sit out an earthquake. That’s not who she is. There’s at least a couple of killer stories that-”

Mr. Samar’s fist banged against the desk, “She sat out for months! And let those sick bastards fester out in the woods. What did that damn whore do when she met her match, Wilson? You covered the case quite extensively as I recall. Refresh my memory.”

“With all due respect, stop pushing your own narrative. The FBI, police, mayor’s office, everyone confirmed that Power Girl underwent training at Fort Zancudo so she could better deal with bomb threats. And she did assist the authorities with dealing with the cult once they were ready to move in on them.”

“Those abominations are still out there, Wilson,” he jabbed a finger at the window. “Funny how you keep dancing around that fact. Also, what’s she up to these days? Hm? Not so much in the limelight anymore. If I didn’t know any better, it’s almost as if she doesn’t want to fight ‘em. Because she’s a scared little coward.”

Andrew sighed and headed for the door, “We’ve been over this before Mr. Samar. I’m not interested in going over it again. I’ll talk to Burch and get back to you.”

Back at his desk, the mess just made everything so much worse. For a moment Andrew just sat there, fuming in his chair. At the snap of his fingers, Andrew got to work. He went at the cluttered desk with a meat cleaver, hacking away anything that wasn’t remotely useful or relevant. In his hurried impatience, Andrew cut his fingers more than once on stray shards of glass. With each trip to the first aid cabinet, he muttered and grumbled while licking up the blood. Finally, his desk was in working order. Not only that, it probably hadn’t looked so good since he got it. A sense of peace and accomplishment sank in as he took a seat.

Burch couldn’t be reached on her phone. Whether it was because of the earthquake or something else was anyone’s guess. Not one to be deterred, Andrew started composing an e-mail when a system message popped up front and center on his monitor, “Mandatory update? I’ve got to restart? Fine, fine…”

He’d never been particularly tech-savvy. Andrew got by better than his senior peers, but even he put up blind obedience to system messages. Another message demanded his attention. Rather than a command, it was a question regarding a file. Save changes or discard? A few clumsy clicks later and Andrew managed to buy himself some time with the reboot. The file in question was his little side project. Writing for the newspaper wasn’t Andrew’s only source of income. He wrote non-fiction and crime novels under a false name, using his news stories as inspiration. A mass-market paperback or hardcover book came out every eighteen months or so. With the arrival of Power Girl, the exceptionally fantastic stories started to appear more frequently in exploitative publications under yet another pseudonym. Stories that were inspired by Power Girl’s escapades were pretty decent hits. Especially the ones covering some of her bigger achievements, such as the Crimson drug case.

Andrew’s latest project would cover the Frist Sons cult. Thanks to his contacts within the police, he’d seen files and reports that the general public had not. The details were lurid, to say the least. Putting it in the novel could do more damage than good. Then again, one shouldn’t dismiss people’s morbid curiosity. When writing, Andrew drank deeply from his well of experience as a crime desk journalist. It spun a narrative web of something real and tangible. But the First Son case was just so out of this world that he struggled to make it fit in a plausible way. Looking at the screen, Andrew saw a diamond in the rough. After a couple of more drafts, tighter editing and he’d have a home run. It wasn’t the end of the world that Burch couldn’t be reached. At least Andrew wouldn’t be sitting on his ass, twiddling his thumbs.

* * *

The sleeves on Karen’s washed-out t-shirt strained to contain her contorting muscles as she eased the cryopod into place. It stood out like a sore thumb, snuggled between the jet skis, scuba gear, and other leisure equipment stored underneath the deck on her yacht. Sweat glinted on her brow while she adjusted her denim shorts and puffed a strand of hair out of the way, “Okay. Okay? Okay. That- that looks pretty good. Now, uh… screwdriver, screwdriver. My kingdom for a screwdriver.”

“Ma’am? A moment of your time?”

“Captain Sato. Haven’t seen you in weeks,” Karen nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “Looking sharp as always. What can I help you with?”

“It’s about the chartering client. Cliff just got off the phone with them and as we expected, they demand a full refund.”

“Yeah…” Karen gave the pod’s touch panel the bulk of her attention as she spoke, “that’s fair. I did after all… kick them off the boat out of nowhere. Have Rose transfer the money and apologize for the inconvenience, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Karen started to go over the cryopod, exploring the interface in earnest since any mishaps would no longer jeopardize the life of its patient. It didn’t take many hours before she’d exhausted all options in the menu and there was little new the interface could teach her. Much to her disappointment, there was no detailed log regarding the pod’s patient. What did intrigue her however was the pod's overall structure and its power source. If she could carefully dismantle it and study the underlying engineering, it could prove vital in restoring her symbioship to the point where she would be able to interface better with her bracers. Human tech was all good and dandy, though the more Karen worked with it in relation to Kryptonian tech, the bigger the gap seemed. Sure, she could get the two techs to talk to one another, an impressive feat in and of itself. But it was more like browsing the world wide web using a telegraph key rather than an actual computer. The data was there, several oceans worth of it. Navigating to something relevant was a huge pain, extracting and translating it was also a slow process.

“But if this thing has been buried for…” Karen counted on her fingers, “for a long ass time. Is this sucker nuclear? So, if I just pop the hood up, it’s a gamma-ray party all day long?”

She looked around, stomped her bare foot against the floor, testing it. This part of the yacht had metal all around, though it was doubtful it was enough to shield out whatever radiation was fueling the pod. Karen picked up her laptop and started to read up on nuclear reactors. It didn’t take long before she discarded most of the articles as worthless, given how large and clunky nuclear reactors of the human design were. The materials her Kryptonian ancestors had used to make the cryopod were a galaxy removed from what humans used. Somewhere between science fiction book reviews and cute kitten gifs, Karen stumbled over a few articles regarding anti-matter. She glanced over at the pod, her vibrant blue eyes squinted with skepticism, “Nah… they wouldn’t. It’d blow up. Not that nuclear is any better, but… thorium reactor maybe?”

A sigh, rippling with frustration, escaped her. Progress was, more or less as expected, slow. The more she fiddled with this glorified rubric cube, the more apparent it became that Karen’s knowledge wasn’t up to snuff. She was in fact a couple of PhDs and several engineering degrees short. At least by her own rough estimates. Pouting, she crossed her arms over her chest, “Stupid piece of nuclear-powered alien tech. I suppose I could check in with Dr. Cross and see if he’s learned anything from the girl. What time is it anyway? Oh… no wonder I’m hungry.”


	3. O brave new world

Save Rose’s fingers softly tapped on the keys on her laptop, a quiet filled her cabin. The cabin itself wasn’t much, though it had everything she’d need; a bath so tiny that it was said you’d have to go outside just to change your mind, a bunk bed that merged with the wall, a couple of simple wardrobes, and a working desk. A creamy white carpet along with wooden panels that had a light shade of  Sienna to them helped make the cabin more open than it actually was. Except for some dangling charging cables for phones and laptops, the place was spotless. Rose didn’t have many personal possessions. Her roommate was more than happy to put the extra storage space to use. Now and then she paused to check her notes. Several spreadsheets were crammed together inside the small screen. When she updated one, formulas made sure that the others were updated. It made her job significantly easier, though the more complex formulas invited a touch of forlorn smile, “Ms. Starr…”

She jolted upright at the sound of the cabin door opening. Rose’s shoulders tensed up while the ambiance of the yacht grew louder, spilling into her sanctuary. Hitomi grumbled something under her breath while she dabbed a stain on her sleeve with a napkin, “Hey Rose, how are you holding up? You doing okay?”

“…I’m good. Thanks,” she rolled her neck and tried to focus back on her work.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to barge in on you like that,” Hitomi went straight for the wardrobe and change shirts. “Had a little accident outside. God, why did it have to be red wine? It’s not going to come off, is it?”

Rose hesitated. A few times she tried to speak up, but the words wouldn’t come out. Hitomi finished changing, Rose had lost her window. She shook her head, returning yet again to the spreadsheets. There was no need to offer her one of her spare shirts. It probably wouldn’t fit Hitomi anyway. She scrolled down on, highlighting a single cell whose text had a green shade, “…Uhm, Hitomi?”

“Yes?”

“You- you don’t have to worry. We can, uh, just get you a new shirt. The budget allows it.”

Hitomi smiled and hugged her from behind, “Thanks, Rose. We’re finally turning this ship around huh? Good job Rose, good job.”

“I’m… not that great. Just doing, uhm, what Ms. Starr taught me.”

A pout came over Hitomi’s face, “I know this is the same old broken record nagging, but don’t sell yourself so short. You set the budget. You dictated the price for the chartering. You took a load of Karen’s shoulders. If it weren’t for your efforts, she’d probably have to sell this yacht.”

“But,” Rose glanced over at the screen. It’s cold and sterile equations didn’t lie, “we’re barely making a profit. And, uhm, I wasted so much of Ms. Starr’s money-”

“Shush, Rose. Money and profit aren’t everything. We’re doing okay. Please stop being so hard on yourself,” her last words almost drowned as she gave Rose another warm, firm hug. “Do you want to come outside? Get some fresh air?”

Rose shook her head.

“You sure? The guests are out jet skiing at the moment.”

She forced a faint smile, “…I’m good. Thanks.”

“Hitomi? You there?” Hitomi’s radio cracked to life.

“I’m in the cabin at the moment. Quick change of clothes. What’s up, Cliff?”

“We, uh, we got word back from Ms. Starr. She’s coming back home.”

Rose and Hitomi exchanged baffled and confused looks, “Uh, what? What do you mean she’s coming back home? We- we still have guests. What does she want us to do? Throw them overboard?”

“Not that dramatic, but… uh, yeah. We’re gonna have to,” Cliff let out a heavy sigh, “think of something, I guess. Come up to the bridge, we’ll discuss it there.”

“Alright, on my way,” she put away the radio. “It’s always something. Ah crap, what do I tell the new staff?”

Rose gave her a not too confident thumbs-up, “Don’t- don’t worry. You’ll think of something.”

Hitomi smiled and shrugged before she left. A moment or two after the cabin door closed, Rose's hands let out rapid, gleeful claps.  The corner of her mouth quirked up as her fingers tapped on the keyboard once more. This time, with a light almost dancelike rhythm to their movement.

* * *

The light, chilled veil that had blanket her for so long lifted off from her skin. Her long, deep sleep thawed from her mind. Warmth filled her, though it was different from the warmth of the sun. She started simple at first. Just the pinky, a faint twitch. Her eyelids were heavy, prying them open took effort. Sharp, pale light leaped at the opportunity and jabbed her at her eyes. Both her arms were still asleep, though it didn’t stop her from moving them around. They flopped around with lifeless grace as she elbowed herself up to a half-seated position. Hiding her face in shadow, her eyes drank in their first sight. What a sight it was to behold.

Gone were the grass, the rocks, and the trees. In their place was this green-bluish flat surface. Almost like water out by the great lake, expect solid. The rock which she laid upon was sturdy, yet soft. Robbed of all texture, it was smooth to the touch with its greyish pale color. Almost like the skin of some beast. Her nose wrinkled as the smell of this place, this cave, came to her attention. As her eyes adjusted to the light she looked around but saw no flowers or bushes. What could make such weird smells? Not to mention what had shaped this strange cave and how were there tiny suns trapped in the ceiling?

Caught up in taking in the sights and smells of her surroundings while still drowsy, she lost her balance and fell on the floor. The biting pain woke up her arms if nothing else. Her legs on the other hand were still sacks of sleeping sand. While an eerie quiet had hung in the air since she woke up, something now caught her ears. It sounded like no beast or animal she was familiar with. Random, yet structured at the same time. Thankfully the sounds came from behind the wall, so she was safe at the moment. Still, one could not be too cautious. She went to work on her legs, pinching, punching, and massaging her things to wake them up. A thousand crippling bites tickled across her skin as her first leg started to stir from its long slumber. 

Just then a clack sounded. Almost like rocks hitting one another and to her horror, a segment of the wall swung aside. Through the gaping hole, two people stepped in. Wrapped in strange, soft wrappings of pale colors, they were about as stunned as she was. The man and the woman only missed the first beat but quickly sprung to action. Her legs scrambled to life, kicking along the  smooth floor. Hands slapped against the hard, uncaring surface, frantic in search of something to latch on to. Like a wounded kill, she kicked and dragged herself away.

A cry escaped her as the hands and arms grabbed hold of her. She pulled free an arm and formed a fist that she threw around with reckless abandon. In a chaotic spiral of legs and arms lashing out at anything and anyone within reach, she escaped her kidnapper's grasp time and time again until she got caught up in a corner. Bundled up, she made herself as small as possible while keeping a careful, terrified watch on her captures. Her heart galloped in her small chest, her throat was already on fire from the breathing and she simply could not stop shaking. Agonizing seconds dripped by. Nothing. The man just squatted down and offered a hand. His face was soft, caring even. He kept making these same few sounds over and over. Smooth and sweet, like the honey her father used to gather. 

The woman disappeared and returned with a bowl of fruit. He took it and slid it along the floor towards her. Her breathing calmed, yet her eyes took the occasion's glance, searching for a way out. Helping himself with a red apple, the man took a bite and smiled. Her hand hesitated. Slow and ever cautious, it approached the bowl. Her fingers secured a single grape before making a swift retreat. The single, small fruit crushed between her teeth. Its mushy meat released its sweet flavor in her mouth. Without a shadow of a doubt, it was the best thing she’d ever eaten in her whole life. The man smiled and nodded. He carried on making these weird sounds, though he was slower this time around. More patient. Turning to the woman, he said something to her. There was one sound that for some reason stood out. Perhaps it was because the woman repeated it. It started as a short hiss from a snake and ended with a subtle growl of a wolf. Ms. Starr.

* * *

“I’m tellin’ ya- it’s fine,” the man staggered around, his words slowed down to a drunken slur. “Nikki! Nikki! Babe! I love you!”

“Alright, alright. Calm down sir,” Power Girl put her hand on the distressed man’s shoulder. She gestured at the security guards who stood outside  Vanilla Unicorn who finally seemed to relax. “I’m sure the two of you can talk things out tomorrow. When you’re sober.”

“I don’t give a damn about tomorrow! All I wanna- all I need is to hear her voice… like, today. Now.”

She sighed and shook her head, “Dispatch, this is PG.”

“Dispatch here, go ahead PG.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a ten-fifty-five out here by Vanilla Unicorn. Any chance you have someone nearby that can give this guy a lift home?”

“Stand by PG, we’ll check.”

Without warning the man twirled around, pulling free from Power Girl’s hand, and dashed towards the strip club entrance as fast as his drunken state allowed. Power Girl reacted, catching the man just as he hobbled over to the side. She hoisted him up in her arms, bridal carrying style, light as a feather. His eyes glossed over by his drunken haze. Looking about, the man blinked at her, and finally, his mind seemed to connect the dots. He cracked a big smile and laughed out loud, the latest beer thick on his breath, “Ya caught me! Atta girl! Ya caught me just like- wheeee!”

“PG, this is dispatch. There are currently no available units.”

She shifted the man’s weight around in her arms so he was sitting on one arm while she used her earpiece with the other, “Copy that dispatch, PG out. Alright sir, looks like it’s you and me. Where do you live? I’ll give you a lift.”

“For reals?! Aw man that’s, that’s just great.” The man’s grin faded, “Say… you’re kinda strong, aren’t ya?”

“I get that a lot sir. Now, your address?”

He grew troubled, “Uh… ‘ppreciate it, but- but mah Nikki.  I love her, yeah?  I can’t-  I can’t bring other girls over. She’d- just t hink I’m cheatin’! But- maybe it’d work out if we had a threesome. Just- just to get to know one another.”

“No worries sir, you’re not going to cheat on Nikki with me.”

“I’m not?” he burped. “Why’s that?”

“I won’t let you.”

The man roared with laughter, “Atta girl! I like you. I really do. Now lemme see… uh, I uh…  Covenant Avenue in Davis. That’s the place!”

“Alright, off we go then,” Power Girl dropped the man down into both her arms and slowly took to the skies. 

After dropping the man off and making sure that he actually owned the place, Power Girl allowed herself a breather as she hovered over the city. Her gaze turned towards Dr. Cross’s clinic. She mulled it over in her head for a moment before checking in to dispatch, “Dispatch, this is PG. List me as ten-seven.”

“Copy that PG, see you on the flip side.”

Power Girl flew over to the clinic, peering down as it was closing for the day. Recognizing the last man leaving as Dr. Cross, she came down for a quick landing, “Hey doc, got a minute?”

“Power Girl,” he gave quite the startle. “You do know not everyone is a fan of jump scares, right?”

“Sorry. How’s the girl?”

“She’s doing okay all things considered. Quite remarkable, given how long she was in that pod.”

The two walked together for a bit before Power Girl said, “She hasn’t- is she showing any signs or… indication that she’s…”

“Like you?”

She nodded.

“No. Not at all.”

“Are you sure?”

Dr. Cross gave her an assuring smile and patted her shoulder, “I’ve done some small tests. Let her be in the sunlight for a few hours, then attempted to draw her blood. No problem.”

“Yeah, okay. So, she doesn’t have powers like me,” she let out a sigh of relief. A moment later her face grew troubled again, “But it could mean that she needs some time to adjust. I’d like to see her.”

“No problem. She’s right over here, waiting in the car,” Dr. Cross motioned towards his car, keys in hand.

The girl shivered like a terrified kitten in the backseat. As Power Girl approached, the girl scrambled to the opposite side of the car. The doors were locked and she didn’t quite seem to grasp how to unlock them. Out of options, the girl opted to huddle together with arms shielding her head. Now and then, eyes wide with terror peeked out, only to advertise themselves as soon as they landed on Power Girl. Frowning at Dr. Cross, Power Girl pointed at the girl, “What’s that all about?”

“Well, she’s having difficulties adjusting. A lot of things that we take for granted scares her. Cars, TV, radio, the sound of modern living. My guess is that seeing you fly in for a landing put the fear of God in the poor thing. It’s not exactly… normal.”

“Yeah, but…” Power Girl’s voice dropped. Dr. Cross’s words had taken the wind out of her sails. She looked down at the palm of her hand, a pained expression colored her face. A small glimmer of hope glinted in her eye. Power Girl looked up, “But she’s- she’s Kryptonian, right doc?”

Dr. Cross cleared his throat, “About that.”

“Doc…”

“We’re still in the early testing, but… I’m sorry. She’s not.”

She glanced over at the terrified girl, “Then what is she? Human?”

“Not quite. Given our estimates that the pod we found is somewhere around fifteen to twenty thousand years old, I’d say that this girl is a member of a  subspecies of archaic humans . Her DNA has traces of modern human in it, but it’s also a lot of… strange things in there that I haven’t had a chance to look into yet. It’s also not really my field of expertise.”

“I see…”

“Well then,” Dr. Cross unlocked his car, “I better get going. I’ll let you know when I learn more. Good evening.”

“Yeah… yeah, take care. Drive safe,” Power Girl said as the car drove off. Left alone in the driveway, Power Girl hugged herself, rubbing her arms for warmth. 

* * *

“Just be careful, okay? If you see something that looks off, let me know and we’ll get it fixed,” Karen stepped out of the elevator to the StarrWARE office. A week had passed since the quake, the wheels of society started to turn once more. All things considered, they’d been extremely lucky; their office was still standing minus some slight damage here and there. And none of the staff or their immediate family had suffered serious injuries or, stars forbid, casualties. Some minor cuts here and there, a few bruises. But that was about as far as it went. In short, there were no more excuses for StarrWARE not to heed the sacred call of capitalism and pursue its holy grail; profits.

“Ms. Starr,” Simon closed the door behind him, his usual cheerful mood clouded over by bad news. “We- they turned us down.”

Her chair creaked underneath her as she leaned back, looking up at the ceiling, “Wayne tech?”

“They didn’t say, but yeah. It wouldn’t surprise me if they got the deal.”

“Alright… that means- I don’t like it, but it looks like we’ll have to put more eggs in our trusty basket.”

Simon nodded and pulled out a pen from his inner pocket, ready to take notes, “Chinese authorities still haven’t approved our translation app for their market. So, what do you have in mind?”

“Let’s look towards the east, across the Atlantic. France, Germany, Spain, Italy… Russia maybe?”

He nodded while writing, “Yeah, uh-huh. That’s probably our best bet. We could also work towards India.”

“Yeah, let’s- let’s do that first, then Europe.  Amandeep could probably help out a bunch,” Karen’s voice and gaze drifted off to some far and distant land.

“Ms. Starr?”

She shook her head and scoffed, “It’s just- no matter how I look at it, it’s bad news to put so much faith in one product. It’s a solid piece of code, don’t get me wrong. I’d sleep a lot better if I knew we had a plan B, C, and D to fall back on.”

“There’s that card game some of the guys are working on.”

“Yeah… not quite what I had in mind when I started this business. Technology can help and improve the lives of so many people, if done right,” Karen stretched in her seat. “The translation app encourages people to understand one another, build bridges, and whatnot. It’s not much, but it is a small step in the right direction.”

“A noble sentiment, but I think if you really want to change the world you need to do more than just write code.”

She picked up the iPad from her desk, coming face to face with the reflection on its black, mirror-like surface, “Yeah, I see what you mean. But right now, the priority is to keep the company afloat.”

Simon nodded before he left Karen alone in her office. She continued to fiddle with the tablet in her hand, tapping and swiping with little rhyme or reason until she came over a near bottomless newsfeed. A whole host of headlines from all walks of life scrolled by the screen. The bulk of it, such as sports and celebrity gossip, did not interest her in the slightest. Then, when the feed stopped to load the next batch a headline caught her eye, the  Nobel Prize  winner  in Physics .  Andre Geim and Konstantin Novoselov at the University of Manchester were this year’s winners. They got the award for their research on a material called g raphene . As she continued to read the article, Karen straightened in her seat. There was something familiar, almost nostalgic about it that nagged in the back of her mind.

During lunch, Karen excused herself and dived through the translated Kryptonian files she’d managed to extract from her bracers. It took some work, but she managed to find what she was looking for. Graphene, if her reading and translation was correct, had been a cornerstone in a lot of Kryptonian techs. Its application spanned medicine, electronics, light processing, energy, sensors, and the environment to mention a few. Best of all, where humans were just scratching the surface of the material’s potential, Karen was sitting on information on how to manufacture and apply with decades, if not centuries worth of refinement. Smiling to herself, she said, “This… this could be it. Let’s not kid ourselves, it looks like there’s going to be a lot of work ahead but t he future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. ”

* * *

“How are you today?”

She looked up from the picture book in her lap. A frown rested on her face for a moment before it cracked into a wide, cheerful smile, “I am good, Doctor.”

He patted her on the head, “Good, good. Are you enjoying the book?”

“Fun,” she beamed at him. As if she suddenly remembered something, she turned her attention back to the book. Page after page got turned over until finally, she found what she was looking for. Holding up the book, she pointed at the page, “What this?”

“Those are snowy mountains.”

“Sno muntains,” she tasted the words. 

He sat down next to her on the floor, pointing out on the page, “See all this white here? That’s snow. It’s cold and soft when you touch it. These dark parts, that’s rocks. It can be sharp or round. But always hard.”

That weird sounding call came again. The doctor had this white thing that hung on his wall. Now and then it’d sing, almost like a bird, and light up. The doctor always left when it began singing and talked into this piece that he picked up. This time was no different. When Doctor talked to her, he made sure to talk slowly and clearly. He took a lot of breaks, to make sure she understood. However, when he talked into the wall singing bird box, Doctor talked fast. Long strings with hardly any breaks. And so many strange words. But for all of the strange words and lack of breaks, Doctor always wrapped things up quickly. He even did this twisting thing, where he’d glance over and about to make sure she was still there. Once she’d hidden under the sofa and he had promptly stopped talking. It was just a little fun. But for some reason Doctor didn’t find it funny at all.

This time around the talk dragged on and on. Putting the book aside, she stepped up to the invisible wall. It couldn’t be seen, but it was there. Cold and solid to the touch. Beyond it was a whole strange world. A world she’d hardly seen. She wasn’t even sure how she’d moved from the first cave to this cave. Together with Doctor, they’d explored every nook and cranny of this cave. The best nook was the one where it rained warm water. Even if Doctor didn’t share her enthusiasm for splashing in the rain as much as she did. As much exploring as she had done, there was one completely off-limits thing. A special door. The doctor called it the front door. 

Doors were holes in the walls that allowed them to move from one cave to the next. She’d been free to come and go through these holes as she pleased. Assuming that she remained within Doctor’s sight. He usually tagged along when she started to wander. But whenever she approached the front door, Doctor was quick to pull her away. Either she got distracted by something shiny, blinky, and noisy. Like the flat black box that hung on the wall. It made all sorts of images in all the colors imaginable whenever Doctor wanted it to. But she nevertheless found her gaze drift to the front door every so often. It looked like no other door in the whole cave. 

The doctor kept on talking. She looked out the invisible wall, tracing a finger along its surface until it met the cave wall. Standing there, her gaze followed along the cave wall until they landed on the front door. Doors were holes in the walls. Go through them and you get into a new cave. On the other side of the invisible wall, was a world vast and colorful. So, therefore, the front door must lead to the other side of the invisible wall. The doctor was still talking. She rose to the tip of her toes and quiet as a mouse, eased towards the front door. Her hand found the handle and pulled. Nothing. Digging in her heels, she pushed. Nothing. Was this door different from the others? It didn’t seem that different to  her. The handle bent down in the same way as all the other doors. So why wouldn’t it open when neither push nor pull worked? She tried to lift but to no avail. 

Disappointed she was about to walk away when her finger brushed against something. It was a rather minor thing. A small shiny platform that stuck out just underneath the handle. Kind of how the handle bent, this little platform rotated around in place. Though interestingly enough, it only went so far before it stopped dead in its tracks. Curious, she started spinning it in the opposite direction. It didn’t take long before it stopped again. But this time around, it was just a minor hurdle rather than a solid wall. She pressed on and a clack could be heard from inside the door. Quickly, as if touching something hot, she pulled her fingers away. Something had broken, yet the front door looked fine. 

A cautious finger tapped on the handle, half expecting it to fall off like a dead branch. Nothing. She secured a decent grip and pulled the handle down. So far so good. Just then, the front door swung outwards. Her jaw dropped; eyes wide with wonder. Just the smells alone were a world of their own. So rich, so different from what was inside the cave. Not even Doctor’s cooking could compare to this. One step out followed the next and next. There were trees, birds, grass, and buzzing insects tasting flowers. What an amazing place this was. The black rock river got hot against her bare feet, to the point where she hastily tip-toed over towards the grass. Just then, from the corner of her eye, she saw something. It was big, red, and coming straight at her, fast. Something, a scream of sorts, blared through the air. Stunned, she squatted down and shielded herself as best she could. As she pulled up her arms, they were heavier than usual. Almost as if they were stuck in the mud. Beneath her feet, the ground shook with an explosive crack. Chaotic, violent sounds filled her ears.

Nothing. She dared to open one eye. The sun was still up, though the birds had fled away. Whatever that big red thing was, it was long gone now. The doctor came over to her, hugging her close. He was talking so fast that she couldn’t follow along. Eventually, she caught on to the recurring question, are you hurt? She shook her head as her body finally allowed itself to relax and the tears started to flow freely. The doctor helped her back inside, put her on the sofa, and told her to stay. He headed downstairs, deeper inside the cave, and came back out with something in his hand. A greenish bag with a white cross on it. The last thing she saw before he closed the front door was a wall of rock which stood up from the black rock river and a twisted red thing that bled black blood.


	4. After Eight

The door handle to Bailey’s was cold to the touch. Power Girl gave the door a pull, heavy and uninviting it rested in her hand. Inside some soft country tune tickled on the edge of hearing, a tender undercurrent to the sterile tick-tock of the watch that hung on the wall. Taking in the dimly lit bar, Power Girl noted that it was a quiet night. Huddled off in one corner a couple of patrons sat in hushed conversation while Alana fiddled with her phone by the bar. The barstool creaked under Power Girl’s weight as she settled in. Her usual boastful and somewhat bombastic demeanor muted down to a humble whisper under whatever weight she carried on her strong shoulders. Alana didn’t seem to take notice. Without looking up from her phone, her thumb still tapping away on the screen, she half kneeled to fetch something from the fridge, “Hey PeGee, you’re still on the clock, right? One cold Dr. Pepper coming right up.”

Power Girl looked over her shoulder. The clock on the wall read just past eight o’clock, “Actually I... I’d like a coffee. Black.”

Alana’s finger stopped. She looked up from her phone, “Oh. Sure, just give me a sec.”

A plain white coffee cup with steaming hot coffee got placed in front of her. She peered over the edge, her reflection in the deep dark brown liquid wobbled. The warmth from the cup leaked into Power Girl’s palms. Its aroma stimulated her nostrils whenever she inhaled. Trying her first sip, the coffee’s heat stung her lips while its sharp, bitter taste assaulted her tongue. Power Girl made a face, licked her lips, and tried again. It was still bitter as bad memory, still searing hot. Nevertheless, she persisted.

About halfway through her cup, Alana asked, “Want to talk about it?”

She scratched her ear, contemplating what to do. A small crack in her façade invited the first few words. Power Girl confessed that she’d responded to an automobile accident out by the Braddock tunnel. The car looked for all sense and purposes rather intact. There were dents, a broken window, and a messed-up paint job, sure. But it was a far cry from the twisted ball of metal and plastic that sometimes graced the highway with their horrifying appearance. As for the people in the car? They were shaken, trembling with adrenaline as it were. Yet once outside, both of them had escaped the ordeal with minor cuts, bumps, and a few bruises. Nevertheless, Power Girl hailed for an ambulance.

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad, now does it?” Alana said.

Power Girl barely mustered a smile as if agreeing with her. She drew a shuddering breath, her grip on the cup tightened, “Yeah… funny you say that. You see, in the back seat there- uhm, there was this- one of those baby seats. And… the baby- it didn’t make it.”

“Oh my god. PeGee, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

She raised a trembling hand, “It’s fine. Really. I’ve… seen a lot in my time. People gunned down. Stab wounds. Overdose. Whole lives withered away to drugs, abuse, or sometimes a combination of both. You kind of… get used to it, or just numb.”

Power Girl shrunk back down, her eyes lost gazing down into some unseen abyss. Perhaps searching for some rhyme or reason to it all. A sharp sniff cut through the air like a scalpel. When she spoke up again, her voice quivered. Words came out as if she was pulling teeth, “But those cries- the, the bone-chilling wailing of a mother… a mother who’d- it’s like barbwire tightening around my hearts. Dazed and- I don’t know, just lost. I- I tried to take it away from her. Prying open her arms like that. I meant no harm, I swear. But stars above, how dumb can you be? I explained to her… I said _ma’am, you have to let go. The paramedics need to take the body._ ”

She rested her face in her hand, shielding her eyes. Sobs rocked and washed through her frame, which looked incredibly fragile despite its sturdy build. For several long minutes’, Power Girl just sat there as tears dripped down on the counter. On occasion, she bit down on her lower lip almost to the point of drawing blood. Without a word, Alana put a napkin holder next to her. There was a frustrated snap to Power Girl’s wrist as she helped herself with a napkin after napkin. After blowing her nose one last time, she allowed herself a pained smile, “Can I have a refill?”

“Of course. Drink as much as you’d like.”

* * *

“Rock powers…?” Karen said with one raised eyebrow.

Dr. Cross nodded, scratching the back of his head, “Yeah well, I- when you put it like that.”

She looked over at the young girl who sat like a timid puppy on the examination bed in Dr. Cross’s clinic. Karen leaned in closer for a whisper, “I thought you said she was human?”

“She is. It’s just… well, she can move rocks with her mind. Or something to that effect.”

“Look, uh… I hate to tell you this, but… humans don’t do that.”

He sighed, “Yes but- We recovered her from an alien pod, remember? I mean, you defy gravity because of sunlight, right?”

“Are- are you suggesting that she got rock powers because a bunch of ancient astronauts gave the poor girl an anal probe?”

“Okay, okay… come here,” Dr. Cross ushered her into his office before closing the door behind him. “I… I’m out of my depth here. I’ve run all the tests that I can and if there is some- device in her that grants her powers, I can’t find it.”

“So… it’s innate? Like genetics?”

His hand ran over his mouth and chin, scraping across his five o’clock shade. Now that Karen took a moment to study him, she noticed that Dr. Cross looked like he hadn’t caught a break for the better half of a week. His hair was unkempt, clothes wrinkled and there was this tired fog that clouded his eyes, “It’s just a hypothesis… throwing things at the wall to see what sticks, but- what if- what if this girl is some sort of prototype version of your powers?”

“A discarded R&D subject? You mean, like a lab rat?”

He shrugged, “Well, you look at human medicine, we use pigs for some early experimental surgery procedures since they’re similar to us. If it works on the pig, then it has a high possibility of working on the human.”

“Okay… let’s go with that. I know from the records in my ship that there was some sort of start chart… navigation coordinates already logged in the system. So, I got sent here, not on a fluke, a random last-ditch effort…They got it from whatever research facility that was already on Earth. Except it’s no longer here. Why?”

“I can’t say… maybe- maybe they left? An accident? Maybe they’re out there, pretending to be humans?”

“Alright, alright… time-out,” Karen started to pace the office whole tapping a time-out gesture with her hands. “Let’s not lose sight of reality by diving deep into sci-fi speculation. One thing at a time. Will the girl be okay?”

“Well, she’s a fast learner. I’m impressed with how quickly she picked up the language, both reading, writing, and speaking. The thing is though, the world outside scares her. Normally that’d be a bump in the road…”

“But it becomes a problem if she starts tossing razor-sharp rocks at anything and anyone that scares her.”

Dr. Cross nodded, “Precisely. You’re the only other one that I know with superpowers.”

“I’m not going to train her doc.”

“Why not? As it stands, she’s a danger to herself and others. If you’re not going to train her, who will?”

Karen stopped by the window and looked outside, lost in thought. After a moment of silence, she said, “Alright, I’ll do it. But just so she doesn’t hurt herself or others. No soldier training.”

“Yes, yes of course. It’s all I ask. Why would-”

“Good, I just wanted to be sure we’re on the same page doc. That’s all. I’ll make some calls and get back to you when I have a training spot in place for our little padawan.”

* * *

The door to the metal wagon opened. She flinched at the light that turned on, pressing herself up into the corner. A woman sat down next to her, “Good evening doc.”

“Evening Ms. Starr,” he half glanced over his shoulder, both hands on this round disc that was attached to the wagon. “Where to?”

“Davis Quartz. Just take the freeway out, it’s near Palmer-Taylor Power Station on Senora Way,” the woman looked to her side as if she registered someone gawking and smiled at her. “Oh right. Seatbelt, seatbelt...”

“Atlee, this is Karen Starr. Karen, this is Atlee.”

“Atlee, huh? Nice to meet you,” Karen stuck out her hand. “It’s a handshake. It's a form of greeting.”

Atlee pouted, “I know that much.”

“So... are you going to accept it?”

“Yes,” she scoffed with a smug smile on her face. Oddly enough, Karen didn’t remove her hand. Why? She said that she’d accepted her greeting. What was this woman’s deal?

“I see. Anyways, Dr. Cross told me you have powers.”

Atlee shot a glare at Doctor. All he did was chuckle, “Don’t worry Atlee. Karen is a friend, she’s here to help you.”

“That’s right. I want to help you, Atlee. Look, it can be scary to possess abilities that you don’t quite understand. But we’ll figure it out, just you wait and see.”

She squirmed a little in her seat, tucking on the black belt that ran over her shoulder and into the seat, “I didn’t mean to... I just- it just happened; you know?”

Karen’s hand touched her cheek. Her brown and blue eyes were sad, almost as if she was in pain, “I know Atlee. I know. Would you like to talk about it? What happened and what you did?”

Atlee shook her head. Although no one had told it to her face, she was left with the impression that what she’d done was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. After the incident, there had been so many people, so many lights and sounds, so much chaos that Atlee almost drowned in it all. Only after the men had taken the badly hurt people away on these flat platforms, carefully packed in with these transparent vines all around them did Doctor come back to her. And even then, everything was different.

Gone was the relaxed and casual Doctor. In his place was a man on guard. A man that no longer waited for the white wall mounted thing to sing. Instead, he talked into it or tried to at least. Time and time again he tried until finally, someone on the other side decided to listen. Later that very evening he took Atlee outside, to meet with this someone. She objected, cried, and pleaded that she’d rather be inside like a good girl, reading her books. Books were fine, she didn’t need or even want to go outside. But Doctor insisted. He had to meet with this person and he’d like Atlee to meet with her too. It wasn’t someone dangerous. Doctor stressed this point over and over again. A compromise was made; Atlee could wait in the car and wouldn’t have to talk to this person if she didn’t want to.

Just who this person was, Atlee couldn’t even begin to comprehend. She came out of the sky, like a bird of prey. But she had no wings, not even feathers. Doctor talked to her as if she was a harmless friend who’d never hurt a fly. Nevertheless, Atlee’s gut knotted and contract at the mere sight of this woman. Even under the dim light of the small sun that rested on tall, thin sticks, Atlee could tell danger when she saw it. Her presence reeked of power; the kind of power that didn’t even need to be demonstrated. It was simply known on some deep, innate level. Thankfully her talk with Doctor was brief, though her ascension up to the night sky sent a shudder through the full length of Atlee’s spine.

As much as Atlee wanted to put the whole ordeal behind her, Karen asked her about the event for the duration of their trip. Her questioning wasn’t harsh or demanding. If anything, she tip-toed around the subject with great care and patience. A simple I don’t know or even complete silence was a perfectly acceptable answer. Karen simply put her hand on top of hers and held it tight.

At long last, the trip came to an end. Stepping out of the metal wagon, Atlee took in her new surroundings. It was a familiar, yet at the same time alien place she found herself in. Wrapped in the dark blanket of the night, nature surrounded them as far as the eye could see. Only off to the far distance strange lights and tall towers had carved themselves a place in the night. In a sense, they reminded Atlee of distant forest fires. For the last stretch, the trio walked along a gravel path until they came upon a great hole carved out in the mountain.

“Alright, this is the spot. Let's see what we can figure out, Atlee.”

“Huh? I- I don’t know- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your powers, your abilities. I’d like you to show them to me. Do you think you can do that for me, Atlee?”

Her foot scraped against the ground, “...no, not really.”

Karen squatted down, looking up at her face, “Atlee, look at me. I understand that you’re scared. It's okay to be afraid. We're all afraid of what we don’t understand. But if you show me what you can do, maybe we can understand it better together. And you won’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I don’t know how...”

“Okay. That's okay,” she picked up a handful of pebbles. “See these little rocks? Do you think you could move them?”

Atlee looked at her with a skeptical sideways glance before she nudged the rocks aside with a cautious finger, “Like that?”

Karen smiled, “Yeah. Like that. How about that dark one? Nudge it all the way off for me?

As she reached out again, Karen’s hand moved away. The two played a little cat and mouse with their hands until suddenly the dark rock fell off Karen’s hand as if someone had flicked it off. Only that Atlee was out of reach. The two of them looked rather dumbfounded at the rock as it bounced off into the night for a moment before Karen sent her a beaming smile, “Would you look at that? That wasn’t so scary, now was it?”

“Did- did I do that?”

“You sure did Atlee, you sure did.”

She let out a bashful giggle and thrust her finger at the rocks a few times. Each time the rocks flew off into the night even though her finger never actually touched them. With only a few rocks left, Karen moved her hand away again. By reflex, Atlee reached out to catch the rocks and as she did, they left Karen’s palm and started to twirl around Atlee’s hand. A terrified gasp escaped her as she yanked her hand back, clutching it close to her chest. As soon as she did, the rocks dropped lifeless to the ground. Wide-eyed she stared at the rocks while taking a few slow and cautious steps back. Just then, Karen wrapped her up in a hug that could easily suffocate a grown bear. Just where did this woman’s strength come from?!

“That was great, Atlee. Fantastic! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Me- me too,” she tapped on Karen’s shoulder in a quiet plea for air.

The two of them continued their experimentation to discover the extent of Atlee’s abilities. Karen remained by her side, bubbling with an almost childlike enthusiasm that easily rubbed off on Atlee as time went by. No achievement was too small for praise and Karen’s interest and fascination with what Atlee could do never once faded. There was something about her contagious laughter that simply dismissed just about any mistake or slip-up Atlee did, so failure never left a bitter aftertaste. They'd probably be at it until the crack of dawn or the first snow, whichever they noticed first, had it not been for Doctor’s insistence that they ought to head back home.

Atlee had a long string of rocks coiling around her forearm in a flawless loop. She'd tried for some time to transfer the rocks from one arm to the other without breaking their coiling motion. Every time they either stopped coiling and moved over to the other arm or just dropped to the ground just as they passed over her knuckles. While Karen helped Doctor packing up, Atlee gave it one more attempt. Inch by inch the rocks shifted and slithered over. Tiny beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she stared and focused intently on the rocks. Her brows snapped together while the coiling pattern wobbled for a moment before stabilizing as it proceeded towards her wrist. Atlee beamed with pride and whirled around, “Karen! Look, look!”

As she came around every single rock lashed out of her control. It all happened so fast, Karen barely got a chance to react. Her hand connected to Doctor’s shoulder and shoved him aside before she got caught in the deadly hailstorm of rocks. They hammered down on her, tearing through her clothes. Those that did not hit her, ricocheted off the ground into half a dozen smaller pieces. One of the larger rocks caught her just by the temple and she collapsed to the ground.

“K-Karen...?”

Doctor scrambled to his feet to check on her. He talked to her, desperate words that meant to wake her up. Karen remained perfectly still. Tears welled up in Atlee’s eyes, blurring the world before her. An inner cold grabbed hold of her, its thorns dug deep into her bones. She took a step back, then another. Her breathing grew faster, shallower, and more frantic with each passing second. Blinking away her tears, Atlee looked about. Deep down in this massive man-made hole, there was no way out. No escape. The rocky walls blotted out the very stars themselves. Her feet took matters into their own hands and before she knew it, she was running. Running away from her mistake, her shame, her fears.

Somehow, as her legs spun faster and faster, they crossed over a boulder. Just as she was about to leave it behind with a leap, something clicked inside her and it was as if a net got cast and wrapped snuggly around the boulder. The ground grumbled and cracked as the boulder got hoisted up. Up and up it went, faster and faster. Below she barely heard someone call her name before the air started rushing by so fast it drowned all sound.

* * *

Blue boot-clad feet rushed over the gravel as the sound of fabric getting torn pierced the air. Shredded pieces of cloth got left behind in a trail as Power Girl leaped into the air, out of gravity’s firm grasp. Pivoting around in the air, she glanced around in all directions for signs of Atlee. The clouded night made it hard to see in the desert. Unable to spot her, Power Girl sniffed the air in hopes of catching her scent. Nothing. A metallic clang rang through the night like an out of tune bell. Reeling around, Power Girl focused her sight on the shadowy silhouettes of the windmills that towered in the distance. True enough, one of the blades had gotten chipped from an impact. Not far away from that, Power Girl spotted something wobbling through the air in a daze.

Without skipping a beat, she dashed forward and closed the distance in a few seconds. The rock that Atlee had pulled out of the ground was pretty banged up. Its run-in with the windmill blade had left several intimidating cracks in it. By the looks of it, it should have broken apart by now. A terrified Atlee shifted around anxiously as she tried her best to keep her makeshift craft together via means she didn’t fully understand. Power Girl swooped the young girl up in her arms, hugging her close, “It’s okay. I’ve got you, see? You’re safe now, I promise. You can let go now.”

A pair of terrified arms locked themselves firmly around her neck. The poor thing trembled in her arms like a scared kitten. Then, without a word or gesture, Atlee’s rock split into three as it got embraced by gravity once more. Their descent down to the ground was smooth and slow. Power Girl’s hold remained firm, yet gentle. Even though they’d landed, whenever Power Girl moved to let her off, Atlee’s grip tightened. Sobs and his tickled out of the young girl like sad pearls while Power Girl looked around to get her bearings. By the looks of it, they were smack in the middle of Ron Alternates Wind Farm. Not very far away from Davis Quartz, just across Senora Way. Nevertheless, it would be a bit of a walk. Looking down at the scared girl in her arms, Power Girl sighed. A quiet walk through the night looked just like what the doctor had ordered for the poor thing.

“I killed someone,” Atlee said after she’d calmed down enough to speak.

“That’s not true. You hurt someone, which is still bad but…” she mulled it over a bit, “not nearly as bad as killing someone.”

Power Girl’s words appeared to have little effect, as Atlee remained depressed, “I’m a monster.”

“Why? Because you can’t control your powers? That’s nothing that putting some good old-time and effort into training can’t fix.”

“No one is going to train me…”

They arrived by the road. Power Girl stopped and looked both ways before crossing, picking up a little speed as she went, “Uh-huh, and what makes you say that?”

“I hurt that lady who wanted to train me.”

“Yeah… you did that. But, is that really enough for her to stop helping you?”

Atlee swiped away a tear, “I don’t know.”

“Have you asked her? It can be hard, but try to see the silver lining in the bad things. Maybe she doesn’t mind. She might be more understanding and forgiving than you think. Especially if you explain to her it was an accident and apologize properly to her.”

“But how do you know? How do you know the lady is fine and, and that she’ll accept my apagly?”

“Apology,” Power Girl offered with a smile. “As for that lady? She’s sturdier than she looks. And she’s got two hearts, neither of them made of stone.”

“You think it’ll be alright?”

“Look kid, I can pretty much guarantee it at this point.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

Atlee titled her head, “Huh?”

“Nevermind. There’s Dr. Cross, see? Everything will work out. I promise.”

* * *

There was something fierce about the fangs and claws of capitalism. The duality of their nature was equally fascinating. On one hand, they stood as a stout defender of whoever made it to the top. On the other, they tore down whoever failed to answer to their expectations with little care for mercy. Karen had both enjoyed their protection and wrestled against them, though it was more of the latter than the former. Much thanks to Karen’s habit of leaping before looking. And as it stood, her latest leap had summoned Ophelia Day, high priestess of capitalism to her office. She tossed her copper-red hair over her shoulder with a condescending huff, “Honestly, what were you thinking? Do you even think at all?”

“Try to see it my way, I have to raise capital somehow. The office is not besieged by potential clients, so I look to new hunting grounds.”

Ophelia slammed her hands down at Karen’s desk, looming over her like a dark sky that rumbled with distant thunder, “Research and development? Of all the things in- it’d be better if you bought a cart and paraded the town selling cabbages!”

“Now, now,” Karen put on a meek smile as she shrunk back down in her seat, “fortune favors the bold.”

“True as that may be, another inconvenient truth is that R&D does NOT yield immediate profits, and generally carries greater risk and an uncertain return on investment.”

She put her hand on top of Ophelia’s, “I have a plan. This is going to be great, trust me. See this thing through and we’ll acquire a larger, no, unprecedented market share with our new products.”

Ophelia’s green eyes narrowed with skepticism. Karen might not be as business savvy and profit-hungry as Ophelia, but she’d picked up a trick here and there in their years working together. On several occasions, Karen had heard Ophelia stress the point of market share. She’d also seen how Ophelia reacted to the term when it got tossed around in business meetings. Ophelia was a keen businesswoman and when up against a worthy opponent she’d bring her A-game. She did, however, have a habit of looking down on Karen. Maybe it was the blonde hair. Or Karen’s cup size. Through her many antics and straight-up eccentric behavior was most likely the biggest contributor to this. Whatever the case might be, Ophelia’s usual business poker face that had landed them many deals, cracked and failed. It might be hard to see with an untrained eye. But Ophelia’s tells were all there; the flickering eyes parted lips and of course the inhaled breath that wasn’t released. The buzzwords Karen had tossed around piqued her interest, that much was certain. She straightened, chilling her composure, “Go on.”

“Have you heard of graphene? They made a fuzz about it with the Nobel’s Price for uh…” Karen snapped her fingers a few times as if trying to catch the word from thin air, “physics. It’s been around since the sixties, but anyway- people are really excited by its potential. And I want part of that pie.”

“So, you want this new company of yours, StarrWARE Labs, to be staffed with industrial scientists and have them look into this… graphene, which may facilitate future product development?”

“Among other things, but yes.”

Ophelia crossed her arms, “You’re very confident that this will succeed. Why is that?”

“Intuition…?” Karen said with her hands spread out.

“You’ve got to do better than that. While I’m no expert myself, from what I’ve heard Research and development are very difficult to manage. Considering how you’ve managed this company; I can’t say I’m bubbling with either enthusiasm or confidence. The defining feature of the research is that the researchers do not know in advance exactly how to accomplish the desired result. Yet, I get the feeling that the opposite is true with you. You seem to know precisely where this endeavor is headed. Again, why is that?”

Karen shrugged, “What can I say? The science, the math, the… everything looks just- solid.”

“Never took you for a scientist Ms. Starr,” Ophelia shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you can’t convince me to put millions of company dollars at risk on a gut feeling alone. Especially when we’ve just stopped getting by the skin of our teeth.”

“Okay, hold that thought,” she straightened in her chair and started tapping away on her computer. Every once in a while, Karen glanced up while counting on her fingers, muttering to herself underneath her breath. “How about… we start small? As for capital let’s go for a fifty million dollars budget.”

Ophelia chuckled, “Ms. Starr, where on God’s green Earth are you going to get that kind of money?”

“My yacht, I’ll use that as a mortgage.”

“Well, I suppose,” Ophelia started, taken aback not only by the drastic steps Karen was willing to take to get her latest project off the ground but also by the frankness of its delivery. “If this fails, you’ll be without a home. You do realize that, right?”

“Eh, I’ll work something out. Maybe I’ll just buy a cheap sleeping sofa and stay in the office for a period. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Clearing her throat, Ophelia said, “As long as it’s not company money, I don’t really have any objections. Though as I understood it, the yacht was intended as emergency funds for the company.”

“Ophelia… I don’t think we can keep StarrWARE as it is now going long term. We need something new, something sexy to scrub off the filth from our brand. This is the emergency.”

“If you say so, Ms. Starr. What about takeover risks?”

Karen blinked, “The what now?”

“R&D is appealing to bidders because they could gain technologies from acquisition targets. Therefore, firms may gain R&D profit that co-moves with takeover waves, causing risks to the company which engages in R&D activity.”

“Look Ophelia, it’s me. I’ll be in charge of the company, both companies. Are you telling me that I’m going to sell-out?”

She raised an eyebrow, “You did sell your first code to the highest bidder. Quite the sum too, given the quality of the product. It is how you made this company a reality and how you acquired your yacht in the first place.”

“That was then, this is now. Look, do you have any other grievances, or can I move forward with your blessing?”

“You can move forward regardless of what I think Ms. Starr.”

Karen groaned, “Oh come on. We might not always see eye to eye on a lot of issues, but the stars above know that this company would have crashed and burned a long time ago if you weren’t on the team. I’d like your blessing and cooperation on this Ophelia. Because teamwork makes the dream work.”

Ophelia lowered her head just a tad and allowed herself a faint smile before she straightened again, “On that note Ms. Starr I don’t think this new company will succeed, not on its own anyway.”

“Okay…? What is that I’m not seeing here?”

“Your budget of fifty million dollars will not be enough. The R&D department needs to be staffed by engineers that are tasked with directly developing whatever new products we can come up with.”

Karen’s jaw clenched and a groan rumbled up from the depths of her throat, “Stars and stone, there’s always something! Okay… okay. So, company money is off the table. What do you propose, Ophelia?”

“Partner up with someone who has the experience and resources to make your dreamed-up products a reality. Or ask the government for additional funds and do it yourself.”


	5. Angel without wings

A single piece of rock stuck to the back of Atlee’s hand. She kept a disinterested look at it as she rotated her hand, making the rock trek around so it remained in the same spot regardless of the orientation of her hand. Over by the kitchen, Dr. Cross was working on today’s dinner. His attention shifted between the cutting board, boiling pot, and a sizzling frying pan. With so much going on, it was no wonder that Atlee managed to sneak up on him unnoticed. He half bumped into her once the pot calmed down, “Oh sorry. Didn't see you there Atlee. Just a few more minutes and we’ll eat, okay?”

She hesitated, fiddling with her rock for a moment before she said, “Dr. Cross...”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to Karen after... y’know, I uh, hurt her?”

“Hm? Oh, she’s fine. Well, not perfectly fine. She's a bit sore here and there with some bumps and bruises scattered about. But nothing serious.”

“She’s not, like, mad at me?”

“No. No, not at all. Not in the slightest. It was an accident. Karen knows that” Dr. Cross turned off the various plates on the stove. “Could you get the plates, please? Up there, in the cupboard.”

A bit into their meal, Atlee looked up from her plate, “Where did the flying lady come from?”

“Hm? Flying...? Oh, you mean Power Girl. She, uh, she gets around. I guess you could say that she can cover a lot of ground since she can fly and all.”

“Power Girl? What a strange name. It's even stranger than yours, Dr. Cross.”

He hid his smile behind a napkin as he cleaned his lips, “I suppose you’re right.”

“But where did Karen go? Why did she leave?”

Dr. Cross stopped eating. Shifting around in his chair, he cleared his throat before helping himself with some water. After a moment of thought, he said, “Atlee, do you know what a secret is?”

“Uh-huh, it’s something I know that you don’t.”

“Good. Now, what I'm about to tell you is a biiiig secret. And we can get into a lot of trouble if other people learned about it. It’s a big responsibility to know this secret. You can’t let anyone know. Ever. So, my question to you is, do you still want to know?”

Atlee shrunk back in her seat, “Did I do something bad...? I didn’t know. And, and I didn’t mean to. I'm sorry.”

“No, Atlee you didn’t do anything wrong,” he put his hand over hers. “Being curious is a good thing. Ask questions and learn more about... well, anything and everything actually. I'm just... if you don’t want to know because this sounds scary, that’s fine too.”

She fidgeted in place, “I kinda wanna know... I'll be good though, Dr. Cross. I'll never let you down. Promise!”

“That’s good to hear. Okay. You ready?” She nodded furiously. Dr. Cross motioned her to come closer. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Karen is the flying lady.”

Atlee pulled back so fast she half missed her seat and almost ended up on the floor, “WHA-?!”

Dr. Cross quickly put a finger to his lips, his eyes looking left and right, up and down as if they weren’t truly alone. Both of Atlee’s hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide as they checked to either side. Nothing. With quiet hesitation, she sat down and resumed eating. Several times throughout their meal Atlee looked up as if she had something to say, but each time she decided against it. It wasn’t until they were midway through doing the dishes that she finally spoke up, “What does she do? With her powers?”

A wry smile crooked up a corner of his mouth, “Power Girl… I suppose you could say that she tries to make the world a better place in her own, clumsy way. It’s a rather Sisyphean task, to try to change the whole world. Certainly, by oneself. That said, I can’t help but admire her. Her stubborn defiance against the many wrongs in the world. Big and small.”

“Sis... ph... an?”

“Ah, sorry. That came out of nowhere, didn’t it?” Dr. Cross frowned and gave it a moment’s thought, “I do I explain it? It’s a fancy word for a seemingly endless and pointless task.”

Atlee dried up the last plate, “I don’t know what you mean, Dr. Cross. What’s there to admire about doing something pointless?”

He untied his apron as he spoke, “Unfortunately, you’ll find that many of the things we do can be seen as pointless. As a doctor, I save as many lives as I can. Ease as much suffering as I can. But death comes for us all. Isn’t it pointless to postpone the inevitable? There’s far more suffering than what I alone can ease. So why even bother?”

“No one likes pain, Dr. Cross. I think you’re a good man for helping people who are in pain,” she said while looking him straight in the eye. Atlee did, however, look down at the ground when she added, “I don’t know about death though. It might be inevitable and sad when it happens, but doesn’t that make the time we have together is all the more precious?”

Dr. Cross let out a soft laugh, “You’re a remarkable young woman, Atlee. Wise beyond your years.”

“Can you tell me more about Power Girl? Please?” She tugged at his sleeve, pulling him towards the sofa.

“I’m hardly an expert, but I do have a couple of stories to tell. I first met her on a dark, rainy night…”

* * *

The elevator doors closed. Karen glanced sideways to Simon who kept fiddling with his tie as if it was just a bit too tight for comfort, “Nervous?”

“Huh?” Simon jerked to attention before a flustered hand patted down the right floor button. “No. I mean, a bit.”

She inclined her head, “Okay… anything I should know about?”

Simon shook his head while making a face. As the elevator trekked upwards the dull concrete wall behind them disappeared from view and in its place came an impressive vista over the city. Karen adjusted her scarf and straightened her jacket in the faint reflection of the glass. Simon on the other hand showed no signs of regaining his composure. If anything, he looked worse with early hints of cold sweat populating his brow. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “Look Simon, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not particularly good with tight spaces either.”

“Huh? Oh… uh, I- I did not know that. But that's not what’s bothering me.”

A beat came and went, “Alright. Mind telling me what is bothering you then?

His shoulders slumped, “The CEO of this company is- could have been my father-in-law.”

“Ah… I see.”

“Yeah.” Simon inhaled sharply and let out a slow, trembling breath. “Maybe now you’ll understand why I was so eager to talk to Wayne Enterprises instead.”

Karen patted him on the shoulder, “I’m sorry, but I’d rather have someone local. It’ll work out, just you wait and see.”

The elevator came to a subtle stop and the doors opened with a ding, “Well, this is our stop. Here goes nothing.”

She squared her shoulders and strode forward. Greetings were exchanged; firm handshake and looking the potential partner straight in the eye. Karen’s heterochromia iridium proved to be a convenient ice breaker as they were given a quick tour of the office on the way to the meeting room. There was a peaceful calm to the place, more akin to a library than an office place. These engineers were of a different breed than Karen’s software engineers. Once settled in the meeting room, she noted that the interior and furniture were more of a classy timeless feel than the modern, laid back, and cool look that they had over at StarrWARE. Across from the meeting room, there was a kitchen area, with a TV running one of the news channels at a low volume.

“So, Ms. Starr, your assistant mentioned graphene in the e-mail. Care to elaborate?”

“Yes,” she put down her shoulder bag next to her chair, “I’ve come up with some interesting patents that we’d be curious if you’re capable of making a reality. They’re primarily about graphene production techniques.”

There was a conscious effort from both Karen and Simon’s part to push a narrative that Karen had come up with these ideas on her own. The purpose was to shield against a takeover by saying that Karen was some magical golden goose. Sure, they could take over StarrWARE labs, but the real prize was Karen herself. An additional bonus defense would be that some potential buyers would be likely to underestimate her. This in turn would allow Karen to stall or straight-up play them like a fiddle. Simon’s discomfort faded as the talks gained momentum and a deal started to take form.

About an hour in, however, something caught Karen’s sensitive hearing; a breaking news story. Curious she looked over to the TV and froze mouth agape. One of the meta-humans from the First Sons cult had come out of hiding for whatever reason and was currently rampaging over at Ineseno Road. From the corner of her eye, Karen noticed that everyone else in the room had stopped talking and were looking at her. Flustered she half rose from her seat, “Look, I-”

“Ms. Starr? Is something the matter?”

Simon pleaded with his eyes for her to sit back down and not make a fuzz. She gulped down a mouthful of air, “I have to go. Excuse me.”

With that, she snatched her shoulder bag and left. Behind her, she heard Simon scrambling to his feet while blurting out some sort of apology. A few employees gave her curious looks as she examined the hallway. Just as Simon caught up to her, Karen spotted what she’d been looking for; an emergency exit sign. Simon talked to her, his voice and tone shifted in volume from pleading hisses to sheer frustration. Yet Karen didn’t pick up a single word as she marched onwards with a single-minded determination. Even when someone, presumably Simon, snatched her elbow, Karen did not flinch let alone stop. She pulled free without a second thought. Simon’s last attempt to reach through to her died as the emergency exit door slammed shut behind her.

Satisfied with her newfound privacy, Karen rushed up the stairs. Her pants tore under the sudden, strong movement of her strong legs. Floor after floor dashed by until she reached the roof. She slammed into the final door with enough force to bend its metal and throw it off its hinges. What remained of her business suit dangled loosely around her powerful frame like a half shredded snakeskin. Underneath the torn fabric her suit could be seen. While her hands got busy tearing off the shredded remains of her clothing, Karen looked around at the surrounding skyline to get her bearings, “Looks like the office is along the way. Good, good.”

Kicking off her high heels, Karen pulled out her boots and cape from her shoulder bag. Power Girl took to the skies, making a low flyby StarrWARE so she could drop off her bag, “Please make it in time.”

* * *

The city below Power Girl got lost in a blur of asphalt, glass, and concrete as she cut through the air at neck-breaking speed. Her cape fluttered and sputtered in the wind, hanging on for dear life. A blob of green swiped past her down below, the Los Santos Golf Club no doubt. Air roared by her ear while its invisible fingers clawed through her blonde hair. Up ahead the Pacific Bluffs grew larger and closer. Power Girl rolled over to the side, making a sharp descent as she cut in over the Great Ocean Highway. Even over the loud wind rushing over her ears, she heard the chaos the meta-human was causing. The only good thing about these sad creatures was their size. It made for an easy target to hit.

With both fists over her head, Power Girl locked on and flew straight into its gut. Even though she’d steeled herself, the impact made her elbows buckle. The creature wobbled over vomiting and gasping for air as she rose up and out of its reach. Power Girl surveyed its surroundings. Right now, it was confined in between the two tennis courts of the Pacific Bluffs Country Club. Unfortunately, their feeble fencing would not be enough to contain or even restrict the creature. Speaking of which, it had made a somewhat recovery. Enough to howl and hurl chairs at her at any rate. A scares crowd had gathered around, phones in hand, hoping to catch the spectacle. Pain still throbbed in her wrists as she snatched the attacks from the air, dropping them harmlessly to the ground.

Much like an oversized gorilla of grotesque proportions, the creature threw a tantrum after its efforts proved pointless. With no more chairs to throw, it shifted its attention to the gathering crowd. The creature stampeded forwards, brushing aside the fence as if it was nothing but weeds. The crowd, who’d wrongly assumed they’d be safe on the other side, scrambled in all directions. Power Girl dived down; the ground cracked underneath her boots as she slammed into it. Her strong arms wrapped and locked on the creature’s wrist. Muscles tensed up. For a moment, their tug of war was at an intense standstill. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for people to get out of reach.

Without warning the creature pushed instead of pulling against Power Girl. The sudden shift of force threw her off balance. Her footing slipped. For a busy second, the world and its sky spiraled and tumbled around her before something flat and solid smacked square into her shoulders. Air fled her lunges. Pain flared up over her shoulders and deep into her arms while bones shrieked in protest. Heaving and gasping for air, Power Girl pushed herself up. Through her watery eyes, she saw a blurry shade approach her, fast. Just as she made the connection, the creature collided with her. Concrete cracked, wood splintered and dozens of glass shards bit into her back.

The silhouette of an oversized fist loomed over her. In the nick of time, Power Girl threw herself out of the way, using her flight to get up against the ceiling. It glared up at her with a deformed snarl. Sniffing the air, the creature’s attention shifted. Power Girl frowned. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it almost looked happy as it hobbled across the dining hall. Like an overeager child unpacking its birthday present, the creature made short work of the serving table. It ate with sloppy, starved greed. Not one to look a gifted horse in the mouth, Power Girl made a soundless landing and took the opportunity to catch her breath, “You’re just looking for a bite, huh?”

A string of shotgun blasts punched through the air and the front door crashed down. In stomped several police officers, covered from head to toe with tactical gear. Weapons ready, they swiped the dining hall and quickly located their target. It all happened so fast, Power Girl couldn’t get in a word before they opened fire. The creature roared in pain; a wide swipe of its massive arms sent furniture flying. Power Girl kicked off; the floor cracked beneath her feet and crashed into the debris. It wasn’t nearly enough, though she did stop the bigger pieces from hitting the police. The sound of a grown man screaming made her skin crawl. Still crawling on the floor, she shot a burst of her heat vision over her shoulder into the creature’s arm. She scrambled to her feet as the police officer hit the floor with a thud, “Yeah that’s a right big guy. Look over here, look at me.”

Power Girl raised her arms in a makeshift boxer’s defense, steeling herself for the attack that was sure to come. There was little rhyme or reason to its movements. Just a barrage of punches. Power Girl quickly found out that they hit like bloated SUVs. Smearing her nosebleed over the back of her hand, she smirked. While Power Girl was by no means a small build, she was nonetheless faster and nimbler than the creature. Her speed and the precision of her flight gave her a faint advantage. Wear it down, that was her plan. Chip away at its stamina until it can’t fight anymore.

The police, on the other hand, had plans of their own. They brought several riot guns to the fight and peppered the place with tear gas. Needless to say, this did not sit well with either of the combatants. Power Girl lost sight of her target and got blindsided by a punch that took out a few of her ribs. As for the creature, it stampeded its way out of the dining hall and out on the parking lot. Power Girl staggered to her feet. Her eyes and throat were on fire. Even though she used her cape as a makeshift mask, it did little to ease her discomfort. Going by sound more than anything else, Power Girl managed to navigate outside. The police were doing an admirable job at pinning the creature down, attacking it from multiple sides so it struggled to decide who to attack first. That ended when it started tossing cars around. With their suppressive fire broken, the creature stomped off.

Things went from bad to worse as it leaped straight into the busy traffic on the Great Ocean Highway. Once more, Power Girl sprung to action. Still half-blind from the tear gas, all she could do was latch on to the creature and use her flight to shove it off the road. An angry, guttural roar was the only warning she got before it lashed out at her. Blow after blow landed on her, yet Power Girl held fast. She pressed on until they hit something solid. Whether it was an elbow or a knee, she couldn’t quite tell. It came in fast and hard, “Alright! That’s! IT!”

Power Girl shifted her angle and using her flight, shoved. Up along the cliffside, they went, scraping against grass, roots, and rocks along the way. Eventually, they crossed a ledge that acted as a ramp, and as Power Girl hauled the massive creature into the air, her grip failed and it tumbled down on the ground. With her hands-free, she frantically rubbed her eyes clear. The warm sunlight licked the skin on her muscular arms, making her fatigue evaporate. Screams and cries for help shattered her brief moment of rest. Below her feet was the Kortz Center. A chill ran down her spine, “Oh no…”

Following a trail of the rampage, Power Girl located the creature. For a fleeting moment, it looked lost and confused, almost scared. However, that vanished as soon as the creature set its sight on her. Once more the two got interlocked in a grotesque dance of violent destruction. Power Girl tried to fall back on her initial plan, wear the creature down, and then have it captured. However, the creature would have none of it. Perhaps it was because it felt cornered and was making a defiant last stand. One massive punch connected and for a fraction of a second everything was pure pain. The punch dug into her, shoving her down into the ground. Stone tiles cracked upon impact with the smaller fragments flying through the air. A distinct taste of iron welled up in her mouth as she coughed, leaving a small blood splatter on the shattered floor. Not even halfway through her heaving for lifegiving air, Power Girl got hit by a barrage of powerful blows. The sharp edges of the tiles bit and clawed into her skin while each hit forced her deeper and deeper away from the conscious world.

Just a hair's width from the deep abyss of the unconscious, the beating stopped. Everything hurt and ached even as the sun shined down its life-giving rays upon her. Power Girl lent herself a moment of rest, wiping the blood away with the back of her hand. An obscured, dark form rose in the corner of her eye. The gargantuan meta-human had set its sight on someone else. In a last-ditch effort, she dived forward and latched on its arm with both arms and legs. Using her flight, she twisted around until she heard something crack. As a deafening howl of pain ran among the concrete walls of the center, Power Girl secured her grip. She dug deep in her flight and hauled the creature up, her grip straining under the weight. Up and over the center they went until she dropped it just next to the parking lot. Hurt and fatigued, the creature’s fighting spirit was about as broken as its arm. It looked at Power Girl, then at the open wilderness, and back again before it limped off as fast as its injured body allowed.

* * *

A pained sigh brushed against the silence. Tender fingers lifted a t-shirt, revealing a deep purple bruise, large as a tennis ball on Karen’s side. She gritted her teeth and powered through the pain, rising to her full height. As a reward for her efforts, her lower lip cracked. Again. Curling it in underneath her teeth, iron flavored blood teased her tongue. The monkey wrench spun around her finger while she contemplated what to do next. In front of her stood a partially disassembled cryopod. Opening it up proved to be quite the challenge as Karen didn’t have the right tools for the job. Let alone an instruction manual. Ironically, her battered state proved to be a bit of a happy little accident. Although there was no shortage of frustration as she tried to make heads and tails of the pod, her injured frame flared up in agonizing pain whenever she applied too much strain on it. As such, Karen had to be patient and systematic in her approach. Think and plan, examine, and analyze before executing.

“What a pain in the ass. Ah, forget it. I’ll go watch some anime instead. What day is it today? I wonder if Ring ni Kakero has come with a new episode.”

Karen made her way back to the bar on the second deck. Somehow, she managed to ease herself down into the sofa. Tossed across the sofa like a wet towel, Karen lazed while watching anime on the TV. After a few episodes, Ted came by to restock the fruit bowl in the bar, “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, you know… it only hurts when I breathe.”

He chuckled to himself, “That bad huh?”

“Say, Ted, do we have any watermelon left?”

“I believe so… or wait. Did we use the last one yesterday?” Ted frowned while rummaging through his memories.

“Look, don’t stress about it. It’s not the end of the world if we’re out.”

He nodded, “Alright if you say so. Whatcha watchin’? A cartoon?”

“Sports anime,” Karen gestured at the TV.

Ted stopped to watch. Arms crossed over his broad chest; his head made subtle jerks to either side as the punches hurled across the scene. Even his feet slipped into a pale shadow of a boxer’s stance. Nearly three decades of muscle memory couldn’t be washed off by simply putting on an apron. Middle-aged with greying in the temples, Ted might be past his prime, but the experience he had. Karen paused the video, “Ted, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Want me to fetch you a Dr. Pepper?”

“Not going to lie, that’d be pretty sweet. But that’s not what I had in mind.”

Subtle changes to his brow suggested she’d piqued his interest, “Alright. I’m listening.”

“Teach me how to fight.”

His hand went to the back of his neck, slow and dragged out rubs. It was his signature move whenever he needed to stall for time. Reluctant doubt clouded his brown eyes. Her request was perhaps unfair, not just because of their employer and employee power dynamic. There was also the obvious difference in their age and physical strength. Punching through concrete had never been an option for Ted. But most of all, Ted had stared down Karen’s wrath. Obviously, he lived to tell the tale, yet it changed the man. Therapy had helped and there was a façade in place that got him through the day to day affair. And now, with all the grace of a ballet dancing rhino in a China store, Karen asked him of the impossible.

“I dunno… you seem to hold your own pretty well.”

“Yeah, against humans I do fine. But look at what happens when I go up against someone in my own… class. I get trashed.”

Ted made a face. No point in arguing, the news had been running the blurry footage of her fight at the Kortz Center more or less non-stop. The video spoke for itself. Or rather, it stood on the roof shouting out an uncomfortable truth; Power Girl can’t fight for shit. Ted scoffed, “I’m flattered but… uh… I’m sure you can find someone better than me to train you.”

He started towards the door, the puff and life he’d carried in with him were now drained. Karen licked her lips, “Ted. You’re the one I know. The one I trust.”

“Y’know… truth be told, there is not much point.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned and took a seat next to the sofa. Hunched over, his forearms rested on his knees as he spoke, “Those things that are giving you trouble? They ain’t no man. They’re animals, Kara. And animals are a whole other league. Hell, they ain’t even the same game.”

“How so?”

Ted sighed, shaking his head, “Imagine pitching the best fighter against a silverback gorilla. No rules, no sportsmanship, no nothing. Just complete and utter defeat of the opponent. Do or die.”

“But these aren’t animals Ted. They were people once. Look at it this way, they’re sick. They need help. The way I’m now, I can’t… subdue them to the point where they can get the help and treatment needed to get well again.”

“You think they can be healed?” There was something about Ted’s voice that suggested he wasn’t buying it.

She gave a half shrug, “I don’t know. I just… hate the idea of going in there and putting them down like some- rabid, sick beast. Not to mention that they’re like this because they, or rather a deranged scientist believed that she could make humans more like me.”

“It’s not your fault. You know that, right?”

“Yes. I’ve spent many waking nights trying to rationalize it, but,” Karen glanced up to the ceiling, “I still feel responsible. It’s a wrong that happened because of me, to one extent or another. I want to set it right. Exhaust all options.”

Ted folded his hands together. A long minute dragged on; his eyes locked down at the floor. When he finally looked up, there was a sharp determination smoldering in his eyes, “Your injuries, they ought to be over and done within a day or two, right?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll look into setting up a training program for you. Also, you’ll need a punching bag.”


	6. Truth be told

Slow and careful index fingers tapped one button at a time on the keyboard. Atlee squinted at the screen; every letter she’d painstakingly typed rested on her lips as her head bobbed slightly with each reading. Her proud smile dropped as she tried to maneuver the computer mouse just the way Dr. Cross had shown her earlier.  Fingers didn’t quite find a comfortable place to rest and her wrist got stuck at an odd angle all while the cursor wobbled across the screen. As it got closer and closer to its target, Atlee tapped on the button in rapid succession. She was so close, close enough to taste it. Just them, her wrist jerked to the side, which sent the cursor flying, opening everything it came across. A myriad of windows with their texts, images, and advertisement bloomed all over the screen. The two-three different sound feeds blasted through the speakers startled her and, to make it all go away, the laptop got closed with a resounding smack.

From over by the sofa, a newspaper page rustled, “Atlee? Is everything alright?”

“Yup. Uh-huh. You know me, just… fooling around.”

“If you say so,” Dr. Cross vanished behind the newspaper again. “Let me know if you need any help.”

She exhaled and inhaled before opening the laptop again. Gone were the colors and swirling images. In their place was a black void of a mirror. Atlee’s fingers ran over the buttons on the keyboard as if trying to coax it out of its sleep. It remained dull and lifeless, even as she started pressing buttons at random. Crossing her arms, she frowned with a head so tilted that her torso decided to follow suit. With a sharp sniff Atlee examined the laptop’s keyboard, a renewed vigor sent her looking for one button in particular. She found it, tucked away in the upper corner, and pressing it made the laptop glow to life again. A merry little tune took form as an inaudible hum as the screen bloomed with a myriad of colors and shifting images once more.

As nice as it was, the screen was a cluttered mess so Atlee went to work closing one image at a time. Every once in a while, she missed her mark and a few more popped up. Her fingers curled momentarily into talons and her teeth tightened together whenever that happened, though she persisted. As she worked her way through image after image, Atlee started to see a pattern. Several of the images, although they were moving, were the same. Curiously enough, they all showed Power Girl. It wasn’t hard to recognize her, with her brilliant white sleeveless suit and scarlet cape. In the corner of all of the windows were the same word repeated over and over. Atlee could read it just fine; it wasn’t a particularly long or difficult word after all. 

“Doctor…?”

“Hmm? What is it, Atlee?”

“Do you know why all these moving images say live?”

He looked over the newspaper, a puzzled frown on his face. As Atlee showed him the laptop, she saw the color drain from his face. The newspaper got tossed aside in favor of the black stick on the table. Dr. Cross used it on the flat box on the wall, which promptly sprung to life as he cycled through the moving images. The first few were very different from one another, but then the same pattern as on Atlee’s small screen showed up. Seeing it so big and clear it became obvious that Power Girl was fighting. The images blurred, shook, and moved with swift, uneasy action only to momentarily stop to get jerked back on the fighting. Screams cut through over the cracking of stone as some hulking monstrosity kept chasing after Power Girl. It’d be so easy for her to keep her distance or even literarily fly away from it all, yet she didn’t. Time and time again, she dived into the fight.

Through it all, Atlee sat utterly spellbound to the point where she almost forgot to breathe. She didn’t even catch a single word of the stunned commentary that lingered as an undercurrent to the events. Atlee flinched and even jerked to the side as hits and debris clashed too close for her comfort to Power Girl. The massive goliath got in some solid hits that left Power Girl down for the count. For whatever reason, the creature shifted its attention to the camera crew and as it started to get closer, the image jerked away. Tumbling to safety, the sky, ground, and walls got smeared over in a series of nauseating motions. Heavy feet stomped onwards, as they gained momentum their sound grew louder and louder. An inhuman roar cut over it all and the image spun around, barely catching a glimpse of the creature being hoisted up in the air, over the wall, and out of sight. 

“Did you see that?!” Atlee jumped out of the sofa; an exited finger jabbed at the screen. “She, she lifted it uuuuuup in the air and, and like get outta here!”

“Yes, Atlee. Calm down, please.”

“That nasty thing just,” she let out a slow, dragged out a groan while she mimicked its movements, “and then Power Girl was all like, nu-uh and just  _ fsssh _ out of the way. And when it thought it had won? But she just, y’know, pretended to let it win? So she, she could just- grab it! And…!

“Atlee, please-”

“Look! Look! Doctor, they’re showing it again, from the start this time.”

The black box went dead, Altee’s reflection looked back at her. She pivoted around, “Hey, I was watching that.”

Dr. Cross kneeled in front of her and put both his hands on her shoulders, “Atlee, I want you to listen to me, okay?”

His words were calm, yet serious. The smile that she wore which could go three times around her head dimmed. Her hand found his, “…okay.”

“I have to go. I’m- have to check on Power Girl. She might be hurt. So, I want you to wait for me here, okay?”

“I want to come with.”

Dr. Cross shook his head, “Atlee. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” the grip on her shoulders tightened, “I need to look after Power Girl. I can’t do that and look after you at the same time. Be a good girl and wait for me here, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

As Dr. Cross got up and started to get ready, she followed him like a shadow, “I can help.”

“I appreciate the offer Atlee, I really do, but… the best way you can help me now is by waiting here. It’d put my mind at ease that you’re safe and sound here. That way I can focus on my job and- get done super-fast. Yeah?”

The front door closed; its lock clicked in place. Atlee retreated to the sofa and after some trial and error, managed to wake up the wall-mounted black box. Over and over again she watched Power Girl’s fight. The people talking all somber got annoying by the third watch-through, so Atlee fiddled around with the black stick some more until the people went silent. Thankfully, the images  kept on moving even without sound. With the serious and quite frankly dull voices gone, she could relish in the raw power and excitement of the imagery. She mimicked Power Girl’s moves with rather mixed results, sometimes doubling in for her lumbering foe and even the people which it chased after during the final stretch of the moving pictures. 

Only when the sun started to set did she stop watching. A thick line of its orange rays stretched across the wall mounted black box. Catching it at the wrong angle, ruined the otherwise sharp and crisp image. Even without the moving images of Power Girl’s fight playing in the background, the fight never really left her mind. Though as she played it over and over again in her mind’s eye, its narrative started to change, “The big bad comes over to finish off Power Girl and then, BAM, I throw a rock at it. It turns around all,  _ uuurggh _ ? Then I say, get away from her! and, and you know, it starts stomping towards me.”

She did another impression of a slogging, hulking zombie walk before resuming her narrative, “But I just reach out to the side and, and… I, uh, grab one of the stone pillars and just WHAM, knock it aside. Parts of the wall just tumble down, like a crash, crack. And people, y’know, they’re all like  _ oh no, eep! Save us! _ ”

“So I just, like,  _ get out of here, I’ll hold it off! _ Just as it raises its, like, massive arm to squash me. And, I just steel myself when suddenly, Power Girl’s back and she has its arm. Like all locked in place, you know?!” she giggled while clapping her hands with pure glee. “But! But the thing is, it’s too heavy. Even for Power Girl, can you imagine? And, so… so I like, take the ground, you know, all the rocks in there and… drrrrrrrrraaaaaaaag it up, shoving it while Power Girl pulls and pulls until- WHEEEEEE…! Away it goes.”

She spread her arms wide as she fell backward into the sofa. Her laughter died down, the wide grin started to fade, “…yeah. That’d be great, you know?”

A minute ticked by. Then another. Halfway through the third minute, Atlee sat up and headed for the front door. Her resolve partially crumbled the moment her hand found the lock. She steeled herself with a deep breath, unlocked the door, and swung it open. Cautiously she opened one eye. Nothing. She was still here and the world lay open and bare in front of her. The tip of her toes alone carried her across the driveway and over the road. Anxious glances peered over either of her shoulders while a single hand reached out, getting a feel of a boulder with the help of an unseen net. Weight, shape, and size got considered before Atlee tightened her grip and pulled. Careful at first, as not to start a ruckus. Dozens of tiny little rocks rained and trickled down, prompting her to stop. They were meager victories, baby steps in the right direction with some generous pauses in-between, but Atlee made progress nevertheless. 

Finally, with both hands holding this unseen net in place, she pulled and dragged until the boulder plopped free from its nesting place of dirt and rock. Atlee made a swift retreat as dried dirt collapsed in on itself, scrambling to fill the gap that was left by the boulder. When nothing more came of it, she let out a sigh of relief. Stepping up on the boulder, she cupped its underbelly in an unseen giant hand and rose in the air. 

* * *

Andrew cracked his neck, a set of keys jingling in his hand. Under the harsh light of the outdoor lamp, he spotted a crack in the foundation. Had that always been there or was it new? It didn’t look like a big deal. More like a jagged pencil line than anything else. He sighed, fatigue hanging over him like a  soaking wet towel three times his size. Keys got tossed aside, shoulder bag hit the floor with a lifeless thud just as he kicked off his shoes, “Rough day today?”

“Hey, Alexandra. God, you’re sight for sore eyes,” he kissed her on the cheek. “And how are you, little munchkin? Hmm?”

Alexandra adjusted her hold on the little toddler. She was the moon and the sun of the family. All-round and adorable. Especially when she giggled. Both parents got all silly and mushy for a moment, playing little games of affection and making silly sounds, “She’s been good. Got a solid three hours of sleep earlier today.”

“Oh wow. Must be a personal record. Are you aiming for the napping championship munchkin? Are you? Are you the napping champ? Oh yes, you are.”

“Okay princess, say goodnight to daddy. I'll tuck her in. Be with you in a minute.”

Andrew stretched and groaned. The ride home had been particularly brutal with so much of the traffic rerouted due to the earthquake. Not that traffic had ever been smooth flowing in Los Santos. At least not since the introduction of the automobile. The dragged-out car ride home faded as a scent invited Andrew into the kitchen. Neither of them considered themselves masters in the kitchen, but they got by. On today's menu was chicken korma with cauliflower, spinach, and rice. Judging by the half-done dishes in the kitchen sink, Alexandra had already eaten. Andrew helped himself to his serving and settled down.

“Is she asleep?”

She slid down in the chair opposite of his with a baby monitor in her hand, “Mm... like an angel.” Her fair skin took a softer shade under the kitchen lights.

Alexandra was in the eyes of many a woman with a cold-hearted feel about her. Andrew himself had put her neatly in that box when they first met on a blind date a mutual friend had arranged. Their second date went much better. Something that only happened because Andrew’s friend wouldn’t shut up about it. It wasn’t until a couple of years later that he learned that she had been the one nagging on their friend to vouch for her. They'd come a long way since then. Sharing an apartment so tiny that they had to practically sleep on top of one another whether they liked it or not. Andrew getting his job at the Globe, which allowed them to not only make rent but also put money aside. 

The collapsing housing market aligned with Andrew’s first big hit as a writer. As such, they managed to secure themselves a neat little house in Mirror Park. Their neighborhood was primarily middle-class. The houses were average-sized, and most of them were situated around the park or up in the elevation, while some homes were still under construction. Many of the houses in the area were also being rented out by Wolfs International Realty, though Andrew and Alexandra steered clear of them. The layout of Mirror Park was quite simple. In the center of the neighborhood was the park itself. All the streets surrounding the park were all lined with small houses. In the eastern end of Mirror Park, there were two cul-de-sac roads; one fully developed with occupied homes, and a second still under development with homes in various stages of completion. In the south-east end of the neighborhood, there were a section of streets made up of various businesses; minor commerce for the most part.

Quite the upgrade from their apartment. Lord knows what they’d do without it when Alexandra got pregnant. Abortion was not an option. She refused to even entertain the thought. Before the money rolled in, they had this unspoken dialogue about sending the baby up for adoption. There was no  way they’d be able to fit a baby and all that it brought with it into their apartment. Bleeding money away on the rent was bad enough. Then add the additional expenses of a baby on top of that? Forget it. Though as things were now, he had no regrets of his decision. He’d probably lose both of them, one way or another had he insisted on adoption. Andrew shook his head as if to push the thought away, “Dishes?”

She looked up from the baby monitor with a smile on her puffy lips, “Dishes.”

Finding peace together wasn’t easy with a baby that had no tact or tone. In a sense, it reminded Andrew of the war movies with the shrieking drill sergeant. Both he and Alexandra replied with their own variant of “how high” whenever their little munchkin “asked” them to “jump.” Though they had managed to construct something that resembled a routine where they could wiggle in a moment for just the two of them. Doing the dishes together was one such moment. It had been a bit of a challenge some days ago, with several fresh glass cuts scattered over his fingers. The band-aids did help a little, though the warm soap water still stung. Faded, dotted lines were all that remained of the glass cuts on Andrew’s fingers. Though tired from their respective days, they still had a little spark in them for each other. Scrubbing found a rhythm, feet started to tap along the beat with Alexandra’s soft hymns danced together with Andrew’s whistling. Smiles turned to chuckles, intertwined with a slight bump of the waist. 

Once done, Andrew rested on the kitchen counter drying his hands on the apron, “If I'm smart I’ll hit the shower.”

She threw her shoulder-long black hair to the side, “You do that. Oh, and the cable guy came by and fixed the TV. See?”

Alexandra turned on the TV, the sound already pulled down to a faint mumble. Andrew's smile faded. He dropped his apron and stepped up to the TV. Scrolling at the bottom of the screen was a news special about  Power Girl's unexpected confrontation with the meta-human at the Kortz Center. Alexandra rubbed her  weak arms, a shudder dripped down her spine. Glancing back at Andrew she said, “What’s the matter? You didn’t know? It's been on the news all day.”

“The radio in the car is- I haven’t gotten around to have it fixed,” his breath picked up. “I- I got to get out there. This- this is big. She'd only taken the fight away. Why would she- I've got to get to the precinct.”

“Andrew, honey. You just came home.”

He started for the door and collected his shoes, “I know. I- I'm sorry, alright? Make it up to you, promise.” He kissed her quickly on the cheek.

“Oh... alright. Just don’t be too late, okay? And be careful.”

* * *

“Hey, Art. How's it going?” Andrew swiped the sweat from his brow, his voice cluttered with light panting.

“Andrew,” the portly desk sergeant greeted him with a bright smile, “been a while. You, uh, you okay there buddy?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm just-” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “couldn’t find a parking spot. This place is packed.”

Art looked around the police station reception area. Cameras, microphones, and reporters stacked were together. Thankfully the third shift was about to start, so the regular business of the police station settled down, “Quite the fuzz she kicked up this time, huh?”

“Yeah. I didn’t catch it on the news. Has she said anything?”

“Power Girl? Nah. You know her, tough as nails, quiet as a rock.”

Andrew rubbed his beard, “She didn’t- has her shift rotation changed? Do you know anything?”

He shook his head with a sympathetic smile, pretending to lock his lips and throwing the key away, “Sorry bud. I can’t say. Detective Reed shut us all up.”

“Max? What about him? Seen him today?”

Art shrugged, “Can’t say I have. My shift just started, but I guess it’s possible that he came by earlier today.”

Biting down on his lip, Andrew nodded. His eyes searched the reception area. Lots of familiar faces in the crowd tonight; the usual TV sleaze bags from Weazel News, in particular, had brought out the big guns. The news network had taken a liking to Power Girl ever since her absence following the bomber last year. Not out of the kindness of their hearts. Nor because they saw the good work and heavy sacrifices the woman did to make the world a better place. No, to the media Power Girl was a handy, durable, and quiet punching bag. Anything wrong with the world got pinned on her. Coffee too hot and you burned your tongue? Lost your job? You didn’t get that pay raise? Power Girl is to blame. Somehow. Nevermind the logistics of it, just clench your fist and shake it up at her domain, the sky. The worst part was the staggering number of people that swallowed their fear-mongering bullshit; hook, line, and sinker.

Andrew gave Art a sideways glance, “Your shift? But... it’s been hours since the attack. And there’s still no statement?”

“Sorry buddy, it is what it is.”

He fumbled through his shoulder bag for his phone, “Damnit! I've- I gotta call Max. Great. The battery is almost dead. Art, do you have a charger I could borrow?”

“-hate is a strong word, Malcolm. But Power Girl does resent artistic expressions and renditions of the human experience. Experts speculate that just like some might marvel at the complexity of an ant colony, we normal folks just want to get rid of the darn thing. Unfortunately for us, from Power Girl’s perspective, we’re the anthill. And she is not impressed. Back to you Malcolm.”

Sheila Hitano, Weazel News's latest street reporting star flicked off her polite, girl next door smile like a light switch as soon as she got off the air. She fell neatly in line with just about any reporter Weazel News had put out on the streets for the past thirty years. An all-around, good ol’ fashion American gal. Pearly white teeth, silky smooth skin thanks to a rigorous make-up routine, flawless hair, and of course the holy trinity of thirty-four, twenty-four, and thirty-four. A pretty face that said what people wanted to hear, never considering what they might need to hear.

She paraded up to the reception desk, an odd mix of a posing beauty pageant and entitled princess, “Oldtimer, can you get that Reed lady for me?”

Art and Andrew exchanged looks before Art let out a chuckle, “I’m terribly sorry miss, but the detective is not available at this time. I can take a message if you’d like.”

“No. Nuh-uh, that’s not good enough. Call her,” she tapped her finger on the counter.

“Guess you’ve got to get in line, just like the rest of us,” Andrew did a pathetic job at hiding his grin.

Sheila gave him a once over, “You’re not half bad. Want to make some big money, handsome? I can put in a word with the boss for you.”

“Ah yes, I've heard just how...” he gestured with his hands as if shuffling for the right word, “intimate your boss is with his employees. Ladies only of course. Anything else would be gay.”

If it weren’t for the blazing rage that spewed out of her eyes, Andrew would never have guessed that he’d hit a nerve. That's an impeccable make-up job for you. It even masks skin flushed red with anger seemingly without any effort. Much to her credit, Sheila didn’t start a scene. She just stood there fuming until it simmered down to levels that allowed her to talk, “And you are so much better? Suck what’s-his-name dick in hopes that Power Girl will give you the light of day?”

Andrew spread his hands, “We all suck dicks. Comes with the territory. The trick is to do it figurately, not literarily.”

“Now, now you two,” Art folded his hands on the counter. The smile was there, but it had this subtle edge to it. “Please be civil for the duration of your stay or I'll have to ask you to leave. Firmly.”

Sheila scoffed, “Whatever old-timer. And as for you. I gave you a chance and you blew it. Try not to cry yourself to sleep when you see me on TV. Okay?” 

A smug smile crossed her lip glossed lips before she took her to leave. Andrew smacked his lips and called after her, “Don’t worry. You all look so alike so I'm not sure if I'll notice your departure.”

Art removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sheila pivoted and with swift, angry steps she was right up in Andrew’s beard, “You really think you’re something, huh?”

“I am something alright. Don't know just quite what, but whatever I am, I'm better than you. That's for damn sure.”

“Andrew...”

She nodded, though her face wasn’t buying it. At all, “That a fact? And just how are you better, hmm? Because you’re so damn thirsty for Power Girl? Newsflash buddy, that doesn’t make you better. That makes you the same as every other goddamn horny bastard on the planet.”

He held up his hand, happily wiggling his fingers to emphasize his wedding ring, “I’m already spoken for. Want to try again?”

Sheila scoffed and sniffed, “Yeah... if you think that ring matters. I've got news for you buddy. You’re a dreamer, a delusional one at that. Out here, in the real world, that piece of jewelry lost its meaning a long, long time ago.”

There was something to her voice. The way it trailed off left an unexpected sting, like heavy boots stomping over the shards of broken dreams. He had quickly found the back of his neck, rubbing it while his teeth nibbled on his lower lip. Looking up he said, “Power Girl- she's not that kind of woman.”

“Are you sure about that? They say that she has a mating season. Once she goes into heat... full on bitch mode.”

He looked at her with a flabbergasted expression, “What? Who says that? On what grounds?”

“They took her to Fort Zancudo, didn’t they? You don’t seriously buy that bomb training BS they sold us, do you? A man of... your caliber?” Her confidence returned with a clever _ I-know-something-you-don't _ smile. “No, no. The real story, they say, is that she got in heat. And a bitch like her needed a lot of men to satisfy her... appetite. They say she laid eggs. The military is cultivating them. Like ants tending to their queen. Human-alien hybrids. Soldiers.”

“Who are they? Forget it. Just- just shut up and stay away from Power Girl, okay? Let the adults do their work. You know, proper journalism?”

“What? You her dad or something?” Sheila crossed her arms, “How are you going to save her? Protect her? Bitch is bulletproof, you know.”

He raised a finger, “I’m giving her a voice. I'm shutting down the crap that your “news” network is spewing out.”

“How’s that working for you? Has she sent you any flowers with a handwritten thank you card? Our ratings are through the roof, just  for your information .” She let out a soft laugh, “I mean, we can’t even keep the advertisers away with a stick even if we wanted to.”

Andrew’s face tightened up, “Yeah well... let’s just say that I have it on good authority that Power Girl has her fans, supporters who appreciate the work she does.”

Sheila scoffed and laughed, “Oh please. Are you talking about those sad wank novels? I tell you what, those are just putting the poor thing on some golden pedestal . Once the truth comes out, they’ll go straight in the trash. Lord knows what they’ll do to that shitty author. ”

The next minute or so turned into a loud and hectic blur. Andrew lunged forward, only to be flanked by two-three officers as Sheila’s shriek cut through the room. While by no means an athlete, Andrew still gave the officers a run for their money. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug. Kicking and practically sputtering with rage, he got pinned down on the ground. His face red as a freshly boiled lobster and probably twice as hot, he hurled insults and foul language at anyone within earshot. Handcuffs snapped around his wrists and he got hoisted up like a ragdoll. 

By now Art had come around and did his best to defuse the situation. Although a humble desk sergeant, he’d been on the force for three solid decades and knew everyone. The social goodwill he had stacked up by being his friendly, good-natured self in good days and wicked days was enough to fill Fort Knox. Twice. Or so people claimed. It took some talking, but Art managed to write Andrew a big fat check that got him out of jail. A slap on the wrist, stern warning, and a loud and clear never again, or there’d be hell to pay. Andrew, still shooting daggers at Sheila with his eyes just nodded and stomped off into the night.


	7. Teenage dirtbag

“Whoa…” Atlee breathed, taking in the many sights, sounds, and smells of the modern world. She’d been outside a few times before, but they were short and sheltered trips. Back then everything had been so alien, so hostile that she’d never really looked or listened. Instead, she’d huddled up, walling out the world. But now, now things were different. The tall, sharp mountains were gone. In their place were buildings, shopping malls, offices, homes, and skyscrapers. Below her, cars swam along to some unseen current that dictated the ebb and flow of the road. Lights, so many lights in just about every color imaginable blinked and shined both up high and down low. If she slowed down her boulder, Atlee could hear a myriad of sounds and even voices.

One sound stood out above all the others. It sounded like a crying animal, wailing louder and louder as it got closer. Atlee, still on all fours on her boulder, shuffled around for a better view. Red and blue lights flashed on top of a car whose front and rear was pitch black. Curiously enough, other cars shifted to the side as this screaming, flashing car rushed forward in ways that contradicted the established current of the road. She looked towards where the car had come from. Perhaps it got chased by some fierce predator? But nothing came of it. As the wailing car faded, getting almost fully swallowed by the bustle below, Atlee made a connection, “Ah! Police car! Dr. Cross said Power Girl worked with the police. They have to know where she is.”

She secured a solid grip on her boulder, tilting it at a slight angle as it pressed forward. Faster and faster it went, chasing after the elusive, faint trail of the police car’s siren. As the cries from the police car shifted from being in front of her to the side, Atlee shifted her grip and pulled in the opposite direction. The big rock slowed down as it rolled over to the side, starting to make its turn. Its smooth trajectory made a small bump, apparently hitting something. Below, there was a shattering sound and people cried out. Not slowing down, let alone stopping, Atlee look back and saw one of the metal sticks’ lights had gone out. Its top head also looked rather different compared to the one that stood across the street.

A roar, like a rushing river or thundering waterfall, demanded her attention. Her boulder rocked and wobbled as the sudden sound caught her off guard. After she secured her grip, she peered over the edge. Underneath her was a mighty river, far bigger than anything she’d seen before. Cars by the hundreds, no thousands formed a glowing flow of white and red lights. White going one way, red the opposite way. Her shoulders sagged. If the police car had joined this river, there’d be no way for her to find it again. Though as her rock drifted further away, Atlee couldn’t see any way for the police car to join with the river. In fact, the road she’d followed along so far seemed to go over, like a fallen tree bridging a stream. Determined to carry on with her search, she pressed on forward. The skyscrapers on the other side of the big river were particularly tall and intimidating. Something about their shape just screamed authority. Weary and uncomfortable, Atlee rushed on to get out of these silent giants piercing glare. In her haste to get away, her boulder surged forward and Atlee leaned to the side so she could cut the turn sharp.

About halfway through her turn, she realized her mistake; she was cutting too close and coming in fast. Frantic, Atlee scrambled over to the right side of the boulder in a desperate bid to pull out of the left turn she’d made. But the boulder’s momentum had already been committed and despite how much she tugged and pulled, its underbelly crashed and scraped along the side of the skyscraper. Glass shattered; metal clawed to the point where even sparks flew. Her invisible grip on the rock faltered and gravity, ever-present with its tendrils, wasted no time to secure it in its grasp. The surge downwards was as fast as it was unforgiving. Caught in a sick race with shards of glass, Atlee dived down towards the ground. With only seconds to act, she managed to latch on to the boulder and pull it out of gravity’s reach. Her jaw set, her invisible web tightened and with a guttural groan, she managed to get its massive body to swing up and away.

It still brushed against something, a car by the sound of the blaring horn and rock against metal. Though there was no time to stop. Gravity, although weak, was a stubborn and persistent force. The fall downwards had given her a great deal of speed, the speed that now was locked in a series of pendulum swings as she rushed forward while at the same time covering the full width of the street. Several times she came close to scraping against other buildings until finally, she managed to bring the boulder to a complete halt, “Whew… okay, that- that was terrifying.”

Catching her already quivering breath, a tremble started to manifest in her hands. Atlee sat still on top of her boulder, taking in her new surroundings for a place to land. Just in front of her was a river, as in an actual river of water. Its banks appeared to be both wide and flat, an excellent place to land. Away from the prying eyes of the city. As she started her slow and steady descent, a familiar sound caught her ear. A police car siren. Spinning around she saw not one, but several police cars parked outside of a building. Her whole face lit up, “The police station!”

She bridged the distance to the police station in no time, letting her boulder skid along the road to slow it down until it came to a halt by a tree in front of the police station. Cars let out their loud cries, people yelled although Atlee was so focused on getting inside the station that all of that noise was a world away. It wasn’t until someone actually put his hand on her that she snapped out of her trance induced tunnel vision, “Slow down there, young lady. Where do you think you’re going?”

Atlee brushed off the hand. The grown man stood tall; his clothes unkempt as if he’d been in a tussle recently. She found it difficult to read his face because of his beard, “I’m going inside.”

“Well, uh, okay. But you can’t just-” he couldn’t finish as other people started to gather around. It didn’t take a genius to understand that they were furious. The man pulled Atlee close, putting himself between her and the small mob that gathered. People in uniform also gathered around, shoving and shouting commands at the mob.

Atlee reached out, her webbing sinking into the ground around her. It slithered around the rocks in the ground, coiling around to secure a grip that grew tighter and tighter as the crowd grew louder. She glanced at the bearded man, a silent warning for him to watch his step. But he was too distracted to notice. Just as she was about to yank up the ground around her, literary raising walls from the ground a voice boomed from above, “Alright people, simmer down!”

Everyone went quiet and looked up. Power Girl hung in mid-air above them, arms crossed and face stern. People parted and made ways for her decent. Her stride was slow, steady while her glaring eyes remained firmly locked on to Atlee, “You. With me. Don’t forget your rock.”

The way the crowd’s attitude shifted, from one of outrage to that of pity, was bone-chilling. No one would step up. Atlee was alone, “But I-”

“Now.”

She flinched at the word. All she could do to hold back her tears was walk away, biting down on her lip as she went.

* * *

“This place looks as good as any,” Power Girl landed underneath the Innocence Blvd. bridge with Atlee close behind. “Just park that thing… over there or something. Gently.”

She did as she was told, carefully resting her boulder up against one of the pillars, “Are you, you know, mad?”

Power Girl put her hands on her hips, “A bit, yes. But that might change depending on your explanation.”

“I’m sorry,” Atlee said in a small voice, taking a sudden interest in the tip of her shoes.

“It’s a start, but you’re doing it in the wrong order. Explanation first, apology afterward. So… what were you doing at the police station?”

“Looking for you,” she glanced up at Power Girl with her best puppy eyes. It wasn’t working, so she added, “But, but you know how- I didn’t know how to- or just where to start. Except there. So, I went. As fast as I could.”

“Atlee…” she pinched the bridge of her nose, “you can’t just- look, you have to be careful with your powers. Using a boulder to fly around in the middle of the city is… it’s just a bad idea, okay?”

“Why? I was careful.”

“Not careful enough. People did get hurt. They got scared and they called me. We’re still training you, remember? Now, since we’re on the subject of why… why did you want to see me so badly, hmm?”

Atlee beamed at her, “You know, I’ve been thinking. I’ve been thinking a lot. You know how you have like, all these powers and things you do. And, and how you do them for like, you know, those that don’t?”

“Okay, okay… slow down kid. Yes, I’ve got powers and yes, I use them to help others. But-”

“And then, and then you know? You know I was thinking since I’ve got powers too, I was kinda, y’know, hopin’ and thinkin’ that maybe you and me could… together…?” her voice tapered off as Power Girl showed no sign of sharing her enthusiasm.

“No.”

Atlee’s jaw dropped, “Why not?!”

“Look, your heart is in the right place kid. You’ve got something going and you want to help. Thumbs up, good attitude.” She shifted from one foot to the other, “But you see the thing is, this line of work that I do? It’s not for the faint of heart. And if I could, I’d probably just keep my head low, mind my own business, and not do this. At all.”

She blinked at Power Girl for a moment, letting her words sink in, “But you do. You, you… do. You know, help people. With your powers.”

“Because I blew it, okay? I exposed myself to the world and rather than running all over the place, always looking over my shoulder, I struck a deal. And believe you me, there are times when I wish I hadn’t. Now, if it were my choice, I’d say take a quiet, normal life. My own isn’t all that it is cracked up to be.”

“But it’s not. It’s not your choice, is it? And what about the training? I’ve been like, you know, training really hard.”

Power Girl sighed, “Atlee, I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea what you were going through. Alright, look. The thing is, the training you’re going through? It’s to get you familiar with your powers so you don’t hurt yourself or others by accident. That’s it. Nothing more. You picking up what I’m putting down?”

“So, I can never ever be like you?”

“That’s- when you’re older, I guess… I can’t live your life for you. But as it is now? No way, not a chance,” Power Girl formed a big X with her arms to help emphasize her point.

Atlee looked at her sideways, “Are you sure?”

“A hundred and ten percent. Now come on, let’s get you back to Dr. Cross.”

Although she wore what was probably the biggest pout in the state on her face, Atlee did what she was told, “Ooookayyyy…”

* * *

“And unsurprisingly, they have decided not to work with StarrWARE labs,” Simon splatted his file on the glass table. His efforts to cover for and explain Karen’s sudden departure had taken their toll, leaving him in his seat as if he was half melted.

“I suppose that means we’ll have to run back to Wayne Enterprises,” Ophelia said, not looking up from her laptop. “Rumors spread fast, but if we move fast enough, we can get the talks going before they get wind of our dear leaders' latest… escapades.”

“We’re not going to partner with Wayne Enterprises, Ophelia.”

Ophelia stopped typing, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, we’re-”

“No. No, no, no. Oh no, you don’t, Ms. Starr. Your unhinged, eccentric behavior has its perks and charm as far as publicity goes, but it is a double-edged sword. You’ve cut yourself. You’ve cut us pretty badly. We’re bleeding out. Few want to do business with someone as unreliable as you. Besides, what is wrong with Wayne Enterprises?”

Karen propped her chin on her hand, “In a word? Nepotism.”

“Of all the- you know what? Fine. Have it your stubborn way. So here are your options Ms. Starr; do everything on your own. To do so, you’ll need to mortgage your yacht and spend a lot of company money. While you’re free to do so, it is, after all, your company. I will not take part in it and resign immediately. Alternatively, you partner with someone who can make your far-flung dream a reality. Though no one here, locally, is likely to accept the offer because of your own ridiculous behavior. You might stand a chance if your personhood wasn’t so tightly tied to the company, but alas…”

“I know, I know Ophelia,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Is there anything else on the agenda, or are we done for the day?”

“Yes, there is one more thing,” Ophelia’s expression shifted to a smug smile. She turned her laptop around so the rest could see her screen, “Please have a look.”

With the push of a button, a short video started to play. It showed a man in a wheelchair, rolling up to a makeshift front wheel of a bike. Attached to the rod was a battery pack. With a few easy moves, the man connected the bike wheel to his chair. Then, at the flick of a button, the battery-powered add-on allowed the man to drive around in his wheelchair as if it was a trike. All in all, the whole video was a meager ten, maybe fifteen seconds long. But Karen was spellbound. Her gaze fixated on the screen as the video looped over and over again. It took the removal of the laptop to bring her back to the present. To regain her composure, Karen noted that Ophelia’s smugness had hardened to the point of stainless steel, “Well Ms. Starr? What do you think?”

“Whoever built that thing is a good Samaritan if I ever saw one.”

A shade of disappointment passed over Ophelia’s face, “I suppose that’s one way to look at it. But I was thinking more along the lines of doing something of the same.”

Karen blinked, “We’re in the wheelchair trike business and no one told me?”

Ophelia let out a tested sigh, “No… the video Ms. Starr. Social media. This video alone has been viewed and shared millions of times.”

“Oh… that. Alright, let’s hear it; your pitch Ms. Day.”

It was clear that Ophelia had done her homework. Her plans thread a fine line between ambition and what the company could realistically accomplish without overstretching. Start small, bleed a little money to get the ball rolling, and then roll in the cash. From a technical perspective, it was quite doable. Fifteen seconds of video, an algorithmic sweet spot so users could upload music bits without getting a copyright strike. While there were a host of social media platforms out there, according to Ophelia, no one had caught the quick and easy video snippet market. The video-focused platforms had evolved and mutated into multi-hour-long videos that got plagued by copyright strikes and fair use issues. By restricting the videos to fifteen seconds, Ophelia argued that the userbase would view more videos, which led to more user engagement and activity, which in turn would make their platform more desirable for investors. Download times and data usage became less of an issue for the same reasons, which would entice users to try it out.

Karen drummed her fingers on the table, “This is all good and dandy Ophelia, and I mean that.”

“But…?”

“But have you looked at this from a critical angle?”

Ophelia gave her a puzzled look, “Of course I have. This project is quite doable. The company will take financial risks, yes, but it’s all within acceptable margins that-”

She raised a hand and injected, “That’s not what I meant. You see… there are several issues that pop up which you don’t address at all.”

“Such as?”

“Addiction concerns for one,” Karen folded her hands in her lap. “Fifteen seconds videos, a constant stream of them. It’s very easy to go _oh, just one more clip_ , and before you know it, hours if not the bulk of the day, gone. And on a similar branch, what does this do to people’s attention span? Especially kids, who are still growing and developing?”

“Uh, if I may,” Simon said. “I suppose we could put in something akin to a… pause feature. Like a PSA message that asks or encourage the user to take a break every… I dunno, hour or so?”

“Very good, thank you, Simon. Would that be satisfactory, Ms. Starr?”

“I suppose that could work, but another one on my list is a content concern. Obscene, immoral, vulgar content is going to be put out there, it’s just a matter of time. The way I see it, administrating that is going to be a royal pain the ass. More so if this thing actually takes off globally. And I hate the idea that people will use this to encourage kids towards softcore pornography.”

Ophelia scoffed, “These are issues that all social media face. It comes with the game, Ms. Starr. If they can manage, I’m sure we can as well.”

“Cyberbullying wasn’t mentioned either. It should, especially if you look at this as a product aimed at kids singing and dancing to their favorite Disney song or whatever. Then there’s user privacy. Can you tell me why we have to collect usage information, IP addresses, a user's mobile carrier, unique device identifiers, keystroke patterns, and location data?” Karen tapped her finger on the table, “If we allow videos and other content to be shared by the app's users through HTTP, it will put the users' data privacy at risk. The potential that this data can be used by sexual predators scares the crap out of me.”

A quiet beat passed. Ophelia let out a short sigh, “So you won’t approve the project?”

“Look, Ophelia… it’s a good idea. No doubt that it’ll be profitable. I just- iron out the kinks and we can have a second look. In its current iteration? Not a chance, not on my watch. I value my own privacy far too much to put something like this out to the world.”

Simon stopped chewing on his pen and spread his hands, “Well, you don’t have to use it.”

“And we don’t have to prey on kids for a quick buck either Simon. Seriously, we nearly tanked because of a child pornography case and even got attacked for it. I doubt we can take another hit like that.”

“Point taken,” Ophelia said, smacking her laptop shut.

“Oh, Ophelia. Before you go, do you know who made that video?”

She stopped by the doorway, musing towards some unseen memory for a moment, “Theodor… Kord? Yes, Theodor Kord from Kord Industries posted it. He wanted to promote his invention without actually spending money on marketing it.”

“Huh, interesting. Thanks, Ophelia.”

* * *

“This is it?” Atlee’s palm pressed up against the car window, her head arced back so she could better take in the building.

“This is it, school,” Dr. Cross said while he undid his seatbelt. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Now, come on. Let's go and meet your teacher.”

She followed close behind him up the stairs and through the large front doors. The inside of the place was at least twice as busy as the outside. Everywhere there were people going here and there, to and from. Always in a rush. If the hustling river of people going in five different directions at six different speeds weren’t bad enough, the sounds of the place were equally loud and chaotic. Voices, from the near constant buzz that got interrupted by the occasional loud shout. Words came out from so many mouths, so fast and in a lot of cases in languages that Atlee had never heard before. Familiar words cut through, but they were somehow different as if given its own spin and flavor. On top of this were the smells. There were no traces whatsoever of the familiar and soothing smells of nature in this place. Instead, the air was warm with a dead staleness to it. Pockets of smells existed, but it was always these extremes. Never anything subtle, let alone pleasant. Every now and then, Atlee got a whiff of something whether she liked it or not. Sharp, artificial sweet smells that were like thorns to her nose passed her by, only to tag out with something so repulsive it made her gag. Forget showering or bathing, someone in here didn’t even allow rain to wash over them.

“Atlee? Are you alright? You look a little pale.”

“I don’t, you know, feel so good.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile, “Sorry. It's been years since I was here, so I forgot how overwhelming it can be. Especially on the first day. It'll get better with time.”

They entered an office where the air was more like a cube-shaped fog than anything else. Two particular smells were caught in some sick wrestling match with one another. One was this flowery, sweet smell which in all honesty would probably have been rather inviting. But given the quantity used, it became a suffocating mess that clawed its way down Atlee’s throat with every breath she took. The other smell was no better. It was like burnt, ashen tar that just hung in the air, all smug and lazy. Its spider wed like strings weaved their way through the clogged-up air from their single point of origin; a small round white stick. Behind the desk sat a woman, elbow on one arm rest, hand firmly holding on to the other. Her hand that held the white stick between two fingers stuck out at an angle. From her face, it was hard to tell whether she was bored out of her mind or if Atlee had somehow failed a bar or test that no one had told her about.

“Dr. Cross I presume?” she scoffed out a laugh.

“Yes, that’s me. And this is Atlee, my, uh... niece.”

Atlee held on to the straps on her backpack as she straightened her back, “Hello.”

“Mm-hmm... so Dr. Cross, why is it that you so whelming insisted on seeing me for something so,” she tilted her head towards Atlee, “trivial?”

“The thing is principal, that Atlee is special.”

A deflated sigh managed to drag a groan out of the principal before she said, “Aren’t they all?”

“Ma’am, please. This is quite serious and I'd appreciate it if you handled the matter accordingly. Power Girl certainly does.”

The end of her white stick flared up with embers as her eyes glinted with interest. Pale, grey smoke bellowed out from her nostrils while she leaned forward, crushing the stick in a small jar that already held about a dozen of its peers. Lips contorted as the principal licked her teeth and puckered her face as if she’d tasted some sweet honey. A leering smile revealed a row of teeth that had their white shine hidden underneath a coat piss brown, “Well now. Why didn’t you say so, doctor?”

Dr. Cross cleared his throat, “I trust we can count on your discretion in this matter then?”

“Oh of course, of course. But please, do tell me... everything.”

Dr. Cross filled her in with the cover-story that he and Power Girl had come up with as well as the basic ABC of what Atlee’s powers could do. As far as the public was concerned, Dr. Cross was her uncle and she had moved here because of some issues with her parents back home. As such she would have some trouble to adjust but given time and patience, a bright kid like Atlee would pull through. Time and time again he stressed the importance of discretion and that more than anything both he and Power Girl wanted Atlee to be just another kid in school. So, no special treatment with regards to her powers. Atlee was a human being, not a zoo exhibit. Of course, that door swung both ways. While Atlee was still learning the ins and outs of her powers, she was under no circumstances to use them while at school. That kind of training was reserved for controlled circumstances only, preferably under adult supervision.

“Of course, I'll help you out, doctor. I'm more than happy to. Quite the honor in fact,” the principal licked her lips. “But I was wondering if you’d clarify something for me.”

He put on a polite smile, “Certainly ma’am.”

“How... how do you know Power Girl? What is your... relationship with her?”

“I... I can’t say I'm afraid. Doctor-patient confidentiality you understand.”

“Ah,” she took a deep breath, sinking back in her chair. “Teacher parent meetings, will she attend them?”

Dr. Cross blinked, “No. It'd be counterproductive towards letting Atlee be normal. Ideally, Power Girl will never show up at school nor would her relation to Atlee be known to the students at large.”

“That’s- unfortunate.” Her demeanor and expression shifted. Gone were the hungry interested gleam in her eyes. Instead, she put on a mask made of scorn and disappointment. The kind one would wear if one had been played for a fool. “If that’s all doctor, I'm afraid I have a meeting soon that I simply must attend. Her class is down on the ground floor.”

Halfway down the stairway, Atlee stopped and said, “Didn’t that lady act, you know, kinda weird?”

Dr. Cross looked over his shoulder, a reply at the ready. He discarded it at the last moment, “Yeah. Yes, she was a bit of an odd one. As long as you don’t stand out, you won’t have to deal with her. All the more reason to keep your head down.”

They arrived at the classroom and after exchanging a few pleasantries with the teacher, Dr. Cross took his leave. Atlee settled in her seat and staggered through the class which was already halfway done. Coming into a subject matter from the middle made it hard enough to follow along. Nevermind the fact that nearly half a dozen eyes were gawking at her at any given time for the entirety of the class. The following class, English, went a little better since both the subject was familiar and interesting. Plus, the initial curiosity that people had for her seemed to have taken a back seat. Lunch came after English class and apparently it was every boy and girl for themselves as no one took the initiative to show Atlee the ropes. Lost and confused, she did her best to follow the lead of her peers.

Being washed and carried by the current of students, Atlee found herself in a big hall where the initial chaos simmered down to form a somewhat organized queue. The smell of chicken fried rice hung in the air and grew stronger as the queue inched its way forward. Atlee glanced both in front of her and behind her, her eyes pleading for guidance. Everyone around her was lost in their own little world, whether they were chatting up with friends or busy with some device or another which rested in the palm of their hand. Far too concerned with keeping the line moving, the people behind the counter didn’t pay any attention to Atlee than they had to.

She found herself a corner seat on a table that was already half taken. A muted greeting to the people already seated there was all she could muster before starting her meal. While the food wasn’t bad per se, there was a blandness to its flavor. Bite after bite, it became clear that this meal lacked a loving and caring touch. Her spoon worked fast and although the food grew and swelled in her mouth with each helping, she kept eating. It came in on silent feet, baby steps as it were. A simple sniff before her spoon lost its momentum. Teeth nibbed into her lower lip to keep it from quivering. She shut her eyes to keep the tears from flowing, though it only served to squeeze them out.

“Hey, are you crying?”

Atlee looked up, the back of her wrist got busy swiping tears, “N-no. Of course not.”

“Oh my god, like, grow up, will you? This isn’t kindergarten y’know.”

She drew a sharp sniff, “I’m not. I-I'm fine. And I know. I know this isn’t kinder- whatever.”

As Atlee gathered her things and followed a couple of her classmates like a lost puppy, a chill came over her. Several sets of eyes dug into her. Blood was in the water; open season had begun. The predators would come out to hunt. Not for food, but shits and giggles. Dr. Cross had warned her that something like this might happened. His advice was to simply ignore her aggressors. According to him, people like that would grow bored soon enough if Atlee refused to acknowledge, let alone entertain them. But that’s not what Power Girl would have done. She stood up to the bullies, put them in their place. Though that was hardly an option at school.

The next class started, though rather than talk through a subject this teacher just put the class to self-study before he started to doze off behind his desk. Atlee tried to read the text as she’d been instructed, but this was leaps ahead of what she was used to. So many new words flew right over her head. On top of that, the foundation on which the text stood was something Atlee lacked. She found herself trying to put a roof on a house where only two walls had been raised and only one of them was complete. Atlee shifted in her seat, clutching her book as she looked around her. However, everyone was reading the same text seemingly just fine. And although the teacher was right there, he couldn’t have possibly been further away. If a needle dropped, it’d shatter the delicate, glasslike silence that had the whole room frozen in time. She tried again and again, but each time she only got so far in the text before the words and sentences seemed to collapse like a house of cards, tumbling off the page and forming a chaotic heap in her lap.

At long last, after a string of eternities, class ended. Only two more classes to go and this horrible day would be over. She'd have to talk to Dr. Cross when she got back home. He'd be able to explain the text book to her. Or perhaps even better, he’ll realize that this is no place for her and let her stay at home. Atlee's thoughts got interrupted by a hand touching her shoulder, “Hey you, newbie.”

“Y-yes?”

“The hell were you leering at my boyfriend for?”

Atlee blinked, confused. A group of students had formed around the back of her desk, like a horseshoe. All girls, arms crossed and with a scornful edge to their eyes. She cowered in her seat, “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t-”

“Stop spitting excuses, you thirsty bitch,” the girl latched on to her hair and pulled her out of her seat.

“Owh! Lemme go! It hurts! You’re hurting me.”

A brief and frantic scuffle followed. Atlee tried to get away, but the girl's hand held on to her hair with an iron grip. Still desperate to secure a retreat, she went on the offensive. Feet shot out in random kicks while flat palms and half-formed fists flailed about. This prompted the girl’s friends to pile in. As weak as their punches and inaccurate kicks were, they still hurt. More so on the inside than on the outside. Amidst the chaos, one of Atlee’s hands reached down towards the floor, her grip extending beyond the tip of her fingers. It all happened in a fraction of a second; her power reaching into the rocks below the floor, it snapping in place with a crushing grip, and yanking the rock up.

Atlee’s assailant cried some word or another. She didn’t quite catch it. The thud, however, she did hear. Everyone did. The silence that followed was deafening. Parting her hair from her eyes, Atlee got her bearings once more. On the floor laid the girl, her gaze glossed over and distant. A small puddle of a dark red liquid grew in size from the back of the girls’ head. Ear piercing shrieks cut and scraped through the silence, clawing and tearing at the walls and ceiling as they scrambled to escape the room. Atlee stood silent, frozen in time and space. Ghostly pale, her teeth started to clatter, “I- I didn’t-”


	8. Shakin’ hands

Andrew sipped his steaming hot coffee, black and strong enough to be mistaken for crude oil. He looked up, “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

“You’re not covering Power Girl anymore,” Mr. Samar said, not looking up from some papers he was reviewing.

Morning drowsiness still fogged his mind. It'd take a few minutes before the caffeine kicked in. Everyone else at the meeting appeared to be unphased by the decision and were moving on as if the business was its usual self. Andrew cleared his throat and straightened in his seat, “Why? Power Girl is- I've covered her since forever.”

“Focus on something else. Other crimes are happening that ought to get dragged into the light.”

“Yeah, but…” Andrew straightened in his chair. “I mean, there are others that can do that, right?”

Samar looked up from his papers, they fell from his hand onto the table with a flat splat. Among the meeting attendees, some heads shook whereas others sighed. None spoke up. They were far keener on keeping the boat from rocking any further. Samar inhaled and rose out of his seat. His weight rested on his fist, eyes narrow and looking straight at Andrew, “You’re a damn good writer. A dogged journalist if I ever saw one. But we’re done with that alien, at least for now.”

“How can you say that? We’ve just got confirmation that there’s another one. And that she’ll team up with Power Girl.”

He nodded, “Ben O'Malley is free, right?”

“I believe so, yes,” another meeting attendee replied.

“Call him. Put him on this Power Girl story.”

Andrew leaned forward, a hand raised for a pause, “Hold on. Now just stop the presses here. Mr. Samar, are you giving Power Girl’s new partner story to a- a freelancer?”

“Yup,” he started unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up.

“You can’t do that.”

Samar crossed his arms over his chest, “I just did.”

“That’s my story, Goddamnit!”

“Not anymore is it. Got anything from Burch, Andrew?”

Andrew blinked, his mouth gaping like a stranded fish. Regaining his composure, he said, “Y-yeah, just a case about the Aztecas getting pushed out of Los Santos ‘cause they’re losing ground to the Vagos.”

Samar nodded approvingly, “One dirtbag shoots another. Do you have anyone on the inside? With the Vagos?”

“I used to, but Power Girl had him arrested about three months ago,” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. Then his face lit up as if an idea occurred to him, “Hey, hey. Mr. Samar, what about the cult case? Those things that are still out there, yeah?”

He extended a hand, “Do you have anything new for me, Andrew?”

“…no,” he tossed his pen aside. “No, I don’t. Nothing since the Kortz Center attack. Neither Max Lord nor the police or FBI are commenting on the issue. None of my contacts will talk.”

Samar looked at Andrew sideways for a moment. As he started to pace around the room, he said, “It’s been almost a year and nothing. Those things are still out there. Despite some of the most outrageous fights out in our own streets, we don’t even get a comment. Anthea, can you-”

“Okay, okay, hold up,” Andrew injected, getting out of his chair in the process. “Look, Mr. Samar. Just hear me out. Okay? I’ll get you the Vagos story, I promise. Just- just let me have the First Sons story. I want to see it to the end.”

“You’re really keen on it, Andrew. Whatever happened to teamwork? It does make the dream work, right?”

Andrew sighed, “She- she does good work, sir. I think- I know Power Girl is some of the best things that have happened to this city in a long, long time. She’s singlehandedly changed the criminal landscape. And, she’s in a tough spot now. So, she needs all the help she can get.”

“You saying Ben ain’t good enough?”

He scoffed, “If he was good, like really good he wouldn’t be freelancing. You’d pick him up. Like you picked up me. Weazel News is dragging Power Girl through the mud. Turning feathers into a chicken house slaughter-fest.”

Samar cracked his neck, “She still needs to be held accountable for her actions, her lack of results.”

“Yeah. Yeah, totally. But let me do it. I know the case, the facts. That’ll put us up above the mud that Weazel News calls journalism.”

He mulled over Andrew’s argument for a moment. With a sharp sniff, he appeared to yield. He slapped Andrew on the shoulder and said, “Alright. Get to it then. But your priority is Burch, clear?”

“Clear.”

* * *

Karen glanced down at her watch. The appointed time was a handful of minutes away. Now was an as good time as any to approach the receptionist. Despite her flying solo, Karen carried with her an air of confidence, “Hi. I’m Karen Starr, I have an appointment with Mr. Kord?”

“Karen Starr, Karen Starr… and a Mr. Simon Peters, correct?”

“Ah, no. Mr. Peters couldn’t make it. Food poisoning you see.”

The receptionist blinked, “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Right then. If you just fill out this form, I’ll get you a guest pass and let Mr. Kord know you’re here.”

After receiving her guest pass, Karen sank on the sofa by the reception area. Taking in the sights, she noted that Kord Industries leaned towards a reserved and practical look. Little had been spent on unnecessary flash and bling. No multifeatured coffee capsule machines with gold plated capsules here. Just a tall coffee kettle along with a stack of paper cups and a bowl of sugar cubes. Karen’s keen hearing caught wind of the subtle bubbling coming from the kettle, a sound made worse by the lingering silence that hung over the room. Her eyes fixated at the kettle with the corner of one eye twitching ever so slightly. Another minute passed before she poured herself a cup. A corner of her mouth lifted, basking in the newfound silence along with the rich aroma of steaming hot coffee. Heat flashed over her lips that had a salty taste following close on its heels. It was sharper and rougher than the one that Karen got served by Alana.

“Ms. Starr, I presume?” Standing five feet and something tall, the man that offered his hand in a handshake was wide-bodied with tan skin. He had an unassuming feel about him.

“Yes, I’m sorry to say that Mr. Peters couldn’t make it.”

Mr. Kord’s knowing brown eyes showed an understanding smile, “So I’ve heard. I hope he makes a speedy recovery. Right, this way Ms. Starr.”

The two of them headed to his office which reminded Karen of her own back on the yacht. About three dozen partially assembled projects were scattered about, along one wall there was a whiteboard that had chemistry notes written all over it. If there was order to the chaotic notes, Karen couldn’t see it. Then again, chemistry had never been her strongest suit. Nodding towards the board she said, “What are you working on?”

“Oh, that? That’s just my feeble attempt to make a solid-state battery. It’s nowhere near done.”

Their conversation flowed nicely from there. A bit rigid and formal at first, but it didn’t take many minutes before their talk smoothed out to a friendly, yet professional tone. Mr. Kord proved to possess a keen mind that was intrigued by Karen’s proposal and asked relevant questions. It became clear to Karen that Mr. Kord saw the potential in her patents. There was something about how he partially zoned out as if thinking of the many possibilities that lied ahead before asking her to elaborate on one thing or another.

“I must say, Mr. Starr, what you and your team have found out in such a staggeringly short amount of time is… really something,” Mr. Kord said as he ran a hand through his short, curly, brown hair.

Her lips formed a half rigid smile as she gave him a polite nod. Truth be told, there was no team. At least not yet and their so-called findings were from an alien civilization that had used this technology for the better part of a couple of centuries. If anything, Karen was already pushing against the edges of believability even after trimming down the specifications. But even if the theory was written with golden ink didn’t guarantee that it’d translate into something tangible, so Karen said, “How does it look to you? Can it be done?”

“It’ll be unlike anything we’d ever done before and… quite challenging, but,” Mr. Kord gave it a moment of thought and nodded to himself, “yeah. I think so. I just wonder why Kord Industries?”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, this is a great opportunity. But we’re not exactly the biggest fish in the state. Let alone the country. With tech like this? You could go to almost any company in the world and they’d eat out of the palm of your hand. You’d be queen and empress. Set for life.”

She shifted in her seat, “Well, uh… we have a bit of a reputation you see. And if I could choose, I’d rather do business with like-minded people.”

“Really? That a fact?”

Karen’s phone buzzed in her shoulder bag, “Yes. You see we- uh, excuse me for a moment.”

She picked up her phone firmly intended to reject the call. Her finger paused when she saw who was calling her. Dr. Cross didn’t call just for laughs. Karen gave Mr. Kord a worried look, “I’m so sorry, I need to take this. Give me a minute.”

Out in the hallway, Karen hugged herself as she answered the call, “Karen Starr speaking.”

“You need to come. Right now. It’s Atlee.”

As much as his panted and taut voice stung, Karen’s grip on her phone tensed up as she said, “Doc, this is really not a good time.”

“Well… emergencies don’t schedule appointments. I’m out of my depth. You need to get over here before the police come. If they take her, and, and I’m sure they will, I don’t know how or if we’ll get her back.”

“Stars above…! Okay. Okay, hold the fort. I’m on my way,” she hung up just as she returned to Mr. Kord’s office. Flustered with early hints of hyperventilation words tumbled out and over one another as she marched in only to pivot around as soon as she secured her shoulder bag. Incomplete sentences with a pinch of hysteria spun a hasty narrative about an incident with her precious cat, that she simply had to leave right away. Mr. Kord tried to follow along with what she was saying, but he was as thrown off guard and confused by her rambling interruptions that it was hard to keep up. As a final touch, Karen cranked up her act a few notches as she struggled to remove her guest pass, getting it tangled up in her tie in the process.

The second she confirmed that she was alone in the parking lot, Karen shot up in the air, leaving behind a shoe with a broken heel. Shoulder bag strap between her teeth, she went to work on her clothes. Torn flakes of cloth rained down on the city streets below, “And I just bought these pants too…”

* * *

Power Girl’s hand found the door handle a small second before her feet touched the ground. The school hallway was deserted. Tickling on the edge of hearing was muffled voices and chalk clacking against the blackboard. The class was in session. Composure tightened their chains around her anxiety as her pace quickened. It lingered just on the edge of a light jog while she tried to navigate towards the dean’s office. A jolt cut through her like a javelin when the bell rang. Half a dozen doors opened and students spilled out. While most of them hurried off to the next class, some took notice of her. Awe and disbelief took over their faces. It couldn’t be, right? It’s not her. That’d be ridiculous. Killer cosplay though. Looks just like the real thing. Disbelief and awe faded, making way for some very hungry eyes that made Power Girl’s skin crawl. If subtly was a class, the lot of them would have failed with a capital F. In the confusing river of students, Power Girl spotted a teacher, “Excuse me, ma’am? Where’s the dean’s office?”

“Down that way, up the stairs on your left. Third floor and just follow the signs.”

“Thanks.”

A wall of perfume and cigarette smoke hit her in the face the moment Power Girl entered the dean’s office. Standing short and of average build with olive skin, the woman who presumably was the dean had a snooty feel about her. She had soulless light blue eyes and her elbow-length, straight, grey hair was worn in a cascading style. The unwashed, casual clothes that she wore were slightly too big. In a seat by the desk sat Dr. Cross. He had all the hallmarks of a troubled parent. A sight Power Girl had sadly seen quite often in the line of duty. The way he reacted to her arrival, how he got out of the chair made Power Girl take half a step back to avoid getting hugged, “Thank god you’re here Power Girl.”

“Hmm? So, you weren’t lying, doctor,” there was a thirst to the dean’s voice that went into Power Girl’s ear like vile medicine.

Hungry eyes on teenage boys didn’t have much of an excuse, aside from they don’t know better and they’ll hopefully learn as they navigate through life. A grown, middle-aged woman, on the other hand, didn’t even have that feeble defense. Power Girl swallowed and steeled herself, “It might be a bit redundant, but I’m Power Girl. At your service. Who might you be, ma’am?”

“Phebe Forest, I’m the dean of this here fine educational facility,” Mrs. Forest did a twirl of her hand, her wedding ring glinting in the sunlight.

“A pleasure,” Power Girl turned to Dr. Cross. “Where is Atlee? I thought she was with you.”

“Well, the thing is she insists she did nothing wrong and locked herself up.”

“What? Like in a closet or something?”

Dr. Cross sighed, “Not quite. Come, walk with me. Uhm, would you be joining us or…?”

Mrs. Forest grinned widely, revealing rows of cigarette stained teeth behind her purple-pinkish lipstick, “Oh but of course. If it’s not too much trouble. I’m… such a fan.”

“I see… Talk to me doc, what happened?”

As the trio made their way back to the ground floor Dr. Cross explained what had happened. Some students had singled Atlee out. Just what it was they couldn’t say for certain. Maybe Atlee said or did something that was out of place. Regardless, they ganged up on her. From what Mrs. Forest had gathered, she just took it at first, since it was just giggling and finger-pointing in the beginning. It’s when they got bored of being ignored that they shifted to becoming physical. That’s when things went out the window. Atlee used her rock manipulating powers to throw the kids off their feet. Rather harmless, given what she could have done if she really wanted to. Sadly, one of the students hit her head pretty hard as she fell and things spiraled out of control. A mob of bystanders all pounced Atlee verbally, in classic overdramatic teenage fashion. They stopped outside a classroom door, “And that leaves us here.”

The classroom door had a thin vertical window on it. Taking a look inside, Power Girl saw a cluttered mess of chairs and desks. On the floor, cracks were surrounding rocky pillars that looked like they’d been extruded up about a foot from the ground. Off in the far corner was an odd sight. A stone pyramid, some three feet tall. Power Girl pointed at the pyramid with a puzzled look. Dr. Cross nodded, “That’s her alright. I tried to coax her out of there, but…”

“Oh, that poor, poor thing,” Mrs. Forest said while she fiddled with her wedding ring. “Will you be able to help her, Power Girl?”

“I’ll give it a go. Wait here.”

Inside the classroom, it was quiet as a grave. A subtle, sandy crunching sound leaked out from underneath her soles as she crossed the classroom. Power Girl squatted down and examined the rock pillars. They weren’t big, just a couple of inches in diameter. Despite their cone-like shape, the top plane was flat and smooth. Some feet away from the pillars were a small puddle of dried up blood. It had been partially smeared out; a trail of incomplete footprints headed towards the door. She picked up some sand, massaged it between her fingers. Its texture was neither fine nor crude. Dusting off her hands, Power Girl rose to her full height, “Busy day, huh kid? You want to talk about it?”

“Why?” Atlee’s voice, even distorted and muffled as it got from inside the pyramid, had coarse cracks to it.

“Because although it won’t put the cat back into the bag, it can help in its own way.”

A sharp sniff cut through the air, “How?”

“Look, I bet you a six-pack of Dr. Pepper that you’re feeling a whole bunch of stuff right about now. Giving all that turmoil a voice- it’ll help ease the burden. Talk to me kid. I’ll listen.”

Nothing. Power Girl bid her time, allowed her words to sink in, and instead took in the sight of Atlee’s pyramid. It was a crude structure, the corners not welded together. Instead, each plane rested neatly against one another with hints of cracks and gaps between them. Whether this was because of Atlee’s lack of skill or a deliberate choice to keep her from suffocating was hard to tell. From the looks of it, the triangular planes had been constructed much like the pillars. Extruded straight out from the ground, except now at an angle. Their surface, just like the sand on the floor, was neither smooth nor crude. Perhaps most important of all, they had no spikes or anything jagged on them. Again, the question of deliberate design versus lack of skill invited itself.

“I didn’t- do anything… y’know, wrong.” A pause followed before she added, with a half-scared whisper, “Did I?”

“You held your own against bullies. The way I see it, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Then why are people angry at me? Why am I the bad guy if, if I did nothing wrong?”

Power Girl pulled up a chair and rested her chin on its back, “Look, kid… you hurt one of them. And you used your powers to do so. Humans are social creatures, packs, and groups. For all their infighting, they’re quick to gather together against a perceived, common threat.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t like this world! I just wanna go home!” Atlee’s words lashed out, cracking and snapping like an angry bullwhip before simmering down to a shallow puddle of sobs.

She hung her head low, “Me too kid. Me too. The thing is, you see, that- this world… it’s all that we got. We’re stuck with it, flaws and all.”

“I thought- that, y’know, if… maybe if I showed ‘em, put ‘em in their place like you do. Then they’d stop and, and… I dunno, the others would celebrate me. Like they do you.”

Power Girl smiled despite herself, “Oh if it was that easy… I’m sorry kid, I really am. And look, I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but the world doesn’t work like that. At least this one doesn’t.”

“Say, can I go with you now? Now that, y’know, I've tried this quiet life?”

Atlee’s question had barely left her lips when Power Cut in, “No.”

“Why? Why not?!” the sides of the pyramid slid down into the ground like sheathed swords. Atlee's bloodshot eyes pleaded at her, “I have these- these powers. I don’t fit in here. I don’t belong.”

“Look, it’s- we’ve been over this. You're too young and what you want isn’t half of what you think it is. Simmer down. We'll work something out with your powers, get you some friends and-”

Atlee raised her chin, her tear wet eyes glaring, “And what? I just... waltz from one day to the next? Did, did it ever occur to you that, y’know, maybe... just maybe I don’t want to simply exist? That I want to live? I existed in that pod for- I don’t know! Long enough!”

“Stars above, I get what you’re saying, but there are plenty of options. I don’t see why you insist on sticking by my side, doing what I do. I can’t see you do it. I just can’t.”

“Why’s that? I wanna know,” she rubbed her nose and sniffed.

“Why? I mean, look at you. You're...” Power Girl gestured, searching for the proper word, “timid.”

“Timid...” Atlee tasted the word, nodded as if she could at least partially agree with Power Girl. “But you know... no one is born timid; timidity is protection we develop. If we never stick our necks out, if we never try, we will never have to suffer the consequences of failure or success. So yeah, I could be kind and unobtrusive all day, every day. I'm sure no one would be offended. In fact, I would seem saintly and likable. But you know what?”

Power Girl shook her head, frowning.

“Timid people are often self-absorbed, obsessed with the way people see them, and not at all saintly. I don’t- that’s not me, y’know? Or I don’t want to become that. It's better to enter action with boldness. Like you do. I might not know much, but I'm willing to learn. I want to learn from the best. Seeing you, out there, doing what you do and what happened here today I learned one truth; everyone admires the bold, no one honors the timid.”

Silence. The kind of silence that even a falling pin needle could shatter. Power Girl studied Atlee’s face. Dried up tears scared her cheeks. Half swiped snot glinted over her upper lip. A stance of fragile bravado, all paper-thin held up by an act of ignorant courage. But her eyes. Windows to the soul as it were. They were ablaze with a stubborn defiance Power Girl was all too familiar with. She'd seen them before. In the mirror. She scratched her hair, “Alright kid. You win. We'll try your way and see where it goes.”

* * *

Karen’s phone rested on her desk, waiting for her call to connect. On the floor by the bed lay a half-unpacked coffee machine. When the call finally connected, Karen put away the user manual, “Lucy? Lucy you there? It’s me.”

“Kara…?” a muffled grumble came through the phone, coarse with a thick coat of drowsiness to it. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

She glanced out the window where the pitch-dark night sky melded together with the sea to form a wall of darkness, “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“On the weekend no less… this better be good.”

“Look, I’m sorry but I need some advice and you’re one of the few people I trust.”

“Sounds serious. Alright, I’m listening.”

Karen came clean with Atlee, who up to this point had been kept secret from the authorities. Although she didn’t mention Dr. Cross by name, she assured Lucy that Atlee had been provided for by medical professionals before getting set loose on the world. Atlee’s powers were also brought up as well as Karen’s efforts to train the young girl in controlling her powers, “And yesterday she- she had an incident at school.”

“Is she okay?”

“Shaken, but yeah… she’s- she’s good.”

There was a pause, “That’s not all, is it?”

Karen hung her head, “No… no it isn’t. The thing is- look, okay Atlee wants to be… more like me. Use her powers for the greater good, serve the people, and yada-yada-yada.”

Lucy groaned on the other end of the call, “Kara…”

“No. No, no, no. This wasn’t my idea. This is her idea, okay? I- I don’t want her to do it.”

“And you need me to help convince her otherwise?”

Karen played with a lock of her hair, “Actually… I’m kind of worried that that ship has already sailed. Even after the school incident, she’s still bent on the serve and protect shtick. Nothing I’ve said seems to sway her.”

“Listen to me Kara, she can’t do it. She just can’t. The minimum age is twenty-one and the maximum is forty. On top of that, an applicant must have a driver’s license and a high school diploma or GED.” Lucy sighed and it sounded like she ruffled through her hair on the other end, “If anything you can use that to tell her to at the very least wait.”

“You think the system will let her wait? She can throw rocks around like nobodies’ business. I don’t know…” she picked up the coffee machine. “I just see it before me; Atlee throwing some tantrum or eager to prove herself that she does something rash.”

A quick laugh tickled through the phone, “Well that’s something I never thought I’d hear from you.”

“Hey, I’m learning,” Karen pouted.

There was the sound of cloth ruffling around. whether it was because Lucy got out of bed or just straightened in it was hard to tell, “Listen, Kara, I agree with you. I think it’s a bad idea for someone as young as her to join our line of work. But if you can’t make her listen to you, how about you take her along for a few patrols?

“Yeah… At least if she was right by my side, I could keep an eye on her. Guide her, mentor her. Who knows? Maybe if she sees and experiences the real deal, she might have second thoughts.”

“If she still determined to see it through, there’s the chance that the formal training will scare her off.”

Karen frowned, rotating the coffee machine in her hands, “Twenty-seven weeks isn’t much to brag about Lucy. But I suppose it's better than nothing. How about things on your end? Any luck catching that Bertrand guy?”

Lucy let out a defeated sigh, “No… he’s a slippery little bastard, I’ll tell you that much. We think he might have crawled back to his old pal Triad leader Wu Zi Mu.”

“Ah… I see why the ATF wanted you on their team.”

“Yeah, well… it is what it is. I’ll-” she stifled a yawn, “excuse me. I’ll be heading for Las Venturas later today.”

“Great! Can I count on you to help me out with Atlee then?” Karen leaned over towards the phone, bright and hopeful.

Lucy scoffed, “Unless you can wait until I get back, no. You’re on your own.”

“I see. Bummer. Alright, take care and I’ll see you when I see you. Bye.”


	9. Bootcamp

Squealing laughter tickled through the living room. Chubby little arms and legs kicked and flailed around while Andrew’s fingers tapped and scratched at his daughter’s chest. The two of them laid sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by colorful toys and stuffed animals. Silly faces and baby talk kept the little angel more than entertained. Her tiny hand reached up and fondled his beard, a curious yet fascinated expression shaped her round, soft face, “You like it? Do you like papa’s beard? Oh yes, you do. Yes, you do.”

A tried groan limped off the sofa, signifying that Alexandra’s little power nap had come to an end, “Uhm... what- what time is it?”

“Does it matter? You look six time zones removed.”

She let out a soft laugh, burying her face in her hands, “Oh god. Oh my god, what. A. day.”

“Take it easy, alright? I'll get munchkin here bathed and tucked into bed,” he kissed her forehead.

“Mm... thanks. You're an angel.”

He gave her a sly wink and said, “I know that, but keep telling me anyways.”

Bath time was a pure joy both for Andrew and his little girl. At least until, for seemingly no tangible reason, she decided it wasn’t. Happy splashes and giggles quickly traded places with tears and snot. Her cries only got amplified by the acoustics of the bathroom. While not as driven as his wife, Andrew went through the usual hoops to soothe his daughter. Lullabies took a deeper tone, like a thick fluffy blanket. He held her close, rocked her gently while he paced around in the bedroom. After long minutes her cries simmered down to muffled sniffs before fading out into slow, steady breathing. Sleep at last. He eased her down into the crib, stroked her head a few times before he tip-toed back downstairs. 

“Nice going champ,” Alexandra wore a tired smirk.

“Yeah, well,” he eased down next to her, folding his arm over her shoulders, “still not quite as good as you. But I'm getting there.”

“How’s work?”

Andrew frowned, “A little so, so. Power Girl’s got this new- partner or whatever. I really wanted to cover it...”

“Andrew...” there was tested patience to Alexandra’s voice.

“I know, I know. I bickered a little over it, but in hindsight, I'm kind of happy that I didn’t get it. This whole dad/work balancing thing- it's all new to me. To both of us, right? Still working out the kinks.”

“Say, wouldn’t it be great if you went writing books full time?”

Andrew looked at her for a moment. She scoffed and added, “It’s just- the money’s good and frankly, I think it’s a better job than being a journalist. Safer. You’ll be home most of the time too.”

“Honey, I’m not the one out there with a badge and gun.”

She shrugged, “Yeah. I guess you’re right. It’s just that- is what they’re saying about her true?”

“Who? Power Girl?” Andrew gave a dismissal wave and a chuckle, “Far from it. They’re just fear-mongering instead of doing actual journalism. She’d never step out of line. She’s better than that. Better than any of us.”

The two snuggled close together, basking in each other’s silent company. Every once in a while, Alexandra checked in on the baby monitor, but thankfully there was nothing new from that front. Despite her recent nap, it didn’t take long before sleep crept in on Alexandra yet again. The fact that Andrew kept running his fingers through her soft hair didn’t really help to keep her awake. One deep nod-off jerked her back to a semi-awake state, “Oof, I’m sorry. I- I better get some sleep. Or try to.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” he kissed her on the top of her head. “Try to get some sleep, yeah?”

Groaning, she hoisted herself out of the sofa, “I’ll give it my best shot. Damn maternal instincts have me sleeping on needles and pins. You coming?”

He checked his wristwatch, “Uh... I think I'll work on my book for a little while before checking in.”

“Alright. Don't be late,” Alexandra said over her shoulder as she slogged towards the stairs.

“Just a couple of hours, promise.”

On his way to his little makeshift office, Andrew swung by the kitchen. His hand was already on the coffee kettle when he stopped. Shaking his head, he sighed. Muscle memory was both a blessing and a curse. Settling down in front of his computer, Andrew skimmed through the current chapter. He was already on the third draft so by and large things were in place. All that remained was to check, double-check and check again for minor things that could use that extra polish. Satisfied Andrew moved on to start with the next chapter. The first draft was perfect for late time writing; just get things down on the page in broad, general strokes. It didn’t have to be perfect. He could always come back later and polish it. At one point his fingers paused, hovering over the keyboard, “Did the sheriff approach Power Girl, or did Power Girl approach him?”

Andrew rummaged through his notes but came up short. Scratching his beard, he put his novel aside and started digging around online. Midnight was fast approaching. Considering how heavy his eyelids were, Andrew really ought to call it a night. His pen rested over a post-it notepad while he clicked away pop-up ads. Just one quick read through this article, jot down some keywords, and then off to bed. A tsk slipped through his teeth when the article proved to be yet another click-bait with little to no substance in it. Off to the side menu, a headline caught his eye. Warning! Is Power Girl’s New Partner Sabotaging Your Security? Andrew couldn’t help but chuckle. For a moment he just sat there, looking at the headline. Smacking his lips, he clicked on the link, “Alright you fearmongering bastards. What do you have to say?”

He leaned back in his seat with a smug look on his face. As he went over the article, the smugness faded. Andrew's expression grew serious, even early hints of trouble as he straightened in his chair. The article was well written. Even though he didn’t agree with many of its arguments, Andrew had to acknowledge that they were laid out in an orderly fashion. Its prose professional with an undercurrent of fearmongering. A breath of fresh air from the usual screaming from rooftops. Over and over again he read it. Too much power in the hands of the few, elitism, lack of oversight as well as accountability, and of course the age-old argument; who watches the watchmen. The one weakness that Andrew could spot in the article was its speculation regarding Power Girl’s new partner. Her powers were poorly understood, which raised a torrent of questions. None were answered. It left the conclusions up to the reader, allowing the fear to fester. 

Another quick search on the web confirmed that the article was already getting traction online, “This is bad. This is really bad.”

A shudder rippled over his shoulders. Uneasy hands started to wrap things up, pens got put away, papers from the bank were put aside, and the computer started to shut down. A message popped up on the monitor. Did he wish to save the changes he’d made to his novel? Andrew swallowed; his fingers trembled. Yes. Yes, he’d save those changes. The monitor powered down, leaving him alone in the dark. His steps were soggy, the soles of his slippers scraping against the floor. A moment of contemplation made him pause in the doorway to the kitchen. His hand ran over the woodwork, a deflating sigh left his frame. With a click, the lights went off and Andrew headed upstairs on quiet feet. A storm was coming. He'd have to be prepared. There wasn’t much time and so much that needed to be done.

* * *

Rose sat on the edge of her bed, all rigid looking straight ahead. From the corner of her eye, she saw her new roommate fuzz about in the bathroom. The light flickered on and off, faucet spewed out water after she carelessly made it go full throttle. And for some reason, the way her voice sounded while inside the shower cabinet made her laugh. Light as a feather and bubbling with energy, Rose’s new roommate finally seemed to settle down on the floor in front of her, “This is kinda neat, you know? The trip out, on, on the sea, was amazing. I mean, how does something this big, you know, float?”

“...I’m not sure.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Uhm, a couple of years I think?” her grip on her pants tightened. “Where- where did Ms. Starr go?”

Atlee tilted her head, her expression just a blank question, “Who’s that?”

The first tears started to well up. Rose bit down on her lip, the pain forming a makeshift dam. She looked at Atlee, sitting on the floor waiting for an answer much like a puppy waiting for a snack. Cornered there was nowhere for her to go. The cabin door might as well be a continent away, not to mention the barren and deadly wastelands that lurked beyond. Its habitats' cruel savages who only knew violence. The bathroom door had the advantage of a lock, but it was hardly a place to seek shelter for long. Her knuckles turned ghostly white, words wobbled out on a shaky, uneven voice, “Karen. Her full name- name is Karen Starr. I- we all call her Ms. Starr. Or, or ma’am.”

She rocked back and forth a little, seemingly pondering over Rose’s words before her whole face suddenly lit up to a wide smile, “Ah! The flying lady!”

“Y-yes, I suppo-”

“She flew away. Just,” Atlee’s flat palm shot up diagonally in the air, “swoosh! You know?”

“Oh... oh, she did? Okay then. Must have been something important.”

Atlee nodded, “I don’t know what they were talking about, but the other white lady said something or another, and then she took off her clothes. And, and the white, uh...swite...?”

“Suit? Do you mean suit?” 

“Yeah, yeah. She was wearing it underneath and, and the red... cloth? Carpet? You know, the thing on the back.”

“Cape.”

“That. She had it in this bag and just,” Atlee gestured around as she talked, “swoosh! Gone.”

Despite a single tear, Rose gave a soft laugh and allowed herself a faint smile. The awe, the wonder. Atlee wore them both on her sleeve without shame or fear. Maybe, just maybe things weren’t all that bad after all. She nodded in agreement, “Yeah... yeah, she does that.”

Their little chat lulled into a pause before Atlee spoke up, “Sooo... do we stay in here all the time?”

“We don’t have to, but...” Rose cast a glance over at the cabin door, and her gut contracted into a bundle of knots. “I’d rather not leave. I... I like it here. It's safe.”

“Is it?” Atlee put her hand on top of Rose’s. It was a simple gesture, but it was so unexpected given how simple and childlike Atlee had acted up until now. The wide, toothy grin had been tucked away; her eyes no longer sparkled with mind blown wonder. Instead, her face was serious. Her hand rested lightly on top of hers, enough to notice it there yet without pressure. Atlee was here with Rose, right now. And there was something about her touch that kept Rose from pulling away. 

Rose inhaled; her lungs filled to the brim. She held it. She held it some more. Then, with a whimper, her makeshift dam cracked and burst, “...no.”

Tearing down the façade she’d so carefully constructed and carried on her narrow shoulders ever since Ms. Starr left, Rose admitted everything. She was miserable in her little cabin, but what could she do? Ms. Starr needed money, owning a yacht was not cheap. Sure, she could just sell it and fire the crew. But the yacht was her home, its crew the closest thing she had to a family. Ms. Starr had said so herself. And she wasn’t the kind of person that would just throw people aside. Not over something as petty as money at any rate. Ms. Starr would make it work, somehow. Bloodied and battered, she may be. But Ms. Starr would never bow her head easily. Chartering it out was logical, it’d at least bring in some money even if that money disappeared as soon as it got in to cover the yacht expenses. 

Rose sniffed sharply, “And, and I've caused nothing but trouble for her. Since day one! I hate myself for it. I hate it! I’m not- I'm not worth it. She should just throw me away, but she doesn’t. So- so I hide...”

“I get it,” Atlee wrapped her arms around Rose, pulling her into a deep, warm hug. “I get it. The world is big and scary. You don’t wanna be out there on your own. Then someone comes along and helps you. And you wanna make that someone proud, make it worth their effort. But you screw up and when they look at you with disappointment, you just wanna roll over and die.”

It wasn’t much. Just a flickering candle in the night. But having someone kind of like herself, someone who understood and had gone through the motions. At least in the broader sense, helped. Crying was normal. Crying is healthy. The emotional boulder that had rested so heavily on her chest shattered, thousands upon thousands of pebbles rushed down and away. It took a while for the avalanche to settle. Not that it mattered. Inside the little cabin, a tiny world of their own, Rose and Atlee had all the time in the world to tend to each other's wounds.

* * *

“Again,” Power Girl crossed her arms over her chest, her tone stern.

A sigh deflated Atlee for a moment before she picked herself up again. Slowly she coaxed her fingers, pulling rocks and pebbles up from the ground. They spiraled and danced around her hand and wrist. Slowly at first, then as she spun her wrist the rocks gained momentum as if caught in a centrifugal force. With a flick, the coiling trail of rocks shut forward like a crude chain before they all clattered against a metal plate. The sound of rock against metal rattled the night, amplified by Davis Quartz’s acoustics. Atlee cringed at the results, only opening one eye after the last pebble fell. 

“Again.”

“Ah! Why? I'm hitting it aren’t I?!”

“You’ve stopped hitting the stone wall, I'll give you that much. But every bottle and coffee can are still standing. Again.”

Atlee got ready for another go. As her fingers flexed, she muttered under her breath, “This is impossible.”

“This is important. Now focus.”

Another shot flew out and clattered. Not a single can or bottle as much as wobbled. She stomped her feet, a frustrated groan gargled in the back of her throat, “I just- isn't this good enough?”

“No. Do you want to try again or do you want to take a break?”

“I’ll take a break,” she pouted.

They borrowed some old deck chairs that the miners used for their break. While Atlee unpacked her sandwich, Power Girl poured herself a cup of coffee. Without a second thought, she took a sip, only to spit it out. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she looked at the cup, “What the? This is cold!”

“Well duh. Didn't you like, make that several hours ago? Hot drink goes cold. Even I know that.”

“It’s not supposed to be cold. I put it in a thermos precisely for that reason,” she examined the thermos. “It doesn’t have an on-switch does it? Can't see any. No charger or battery slot either. I'm going to get a refund first thing in the morning.”

After pouring another cup, Power Girl stared into the dark brown liquid. A soft orange glow filled her eye sockets and then, steam rose from the cup. One cautious test sip later, she was rather pleased with both herself and the end result. Atlee on the other hand pulled off a rather impressive combo of gawking and gaping at the same time. It looked rather unflattering with the half-eaten sandwich in her mouth, “How did you...?”

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, it’s bad manners.”

“How did you do that?”

“Oh, this?” Power Girl toasted with her cup, a smug smile on her face. “Heat vision. I can... project heat in form of infrared light from my eyes.”

“Infa-what-now?”

“Light, it’s not visible to the naked eye. But it’s there.”

Atlee frowned while taking another bite. It was clear as day that the gears in her head were spinning and grinding for dear life. Power Girl chuckled at the adorable sight. There was something innocent  and pure about a young one, trying to make sense of new concepts and ideas. After a few long minutes, Atlee admitted, “I don’t get it. How can- if it’s light, shouldn’t it, you know, light up- at least something?”

“Infrared, as well as other light frequencies can't be seen. We can still feel its effect though, like the heat that comes off the sun.”

“Hmmm... I still don’t quite get it, but at least that’s one power you don’t have to worry about, right?”

Power Girl’s maternal smile faded, “That’s not true. If anything, it's probably the power I'm most worried about.”

“Huh?”

“Watch,” Power Girl set her gaze upon the left-most bottle as she plugged her fingers in her ears. From the corner of her eye, she saw Atlee sitting up with anticipation, following her lead. Deadly orange beams cut through the night air, slicing through the bottle before it swiped to the right, making short work of a couple of coffee cans, the metal plate, and the stone wall behind them. As for the stillness of the night? It got shattered with a borderline deafening thunderclap which had its ground zero right where they were seated. The powerful spectacle took Atlee completely off guard, to the point where she yelped as she promptly fell out of her chair. 

“Holy...! Shit! What the WHAT?!” Atlee probably had about a thousand other things she wanted to say, but her words got reduced to a stammering and incoherent mess as she pointed with a trembling arm.

“Language,” Power Girl chided, sipping her coffee.

“Language?! You- the beams- eyes- Metal! You, you melted metal! And rocks! With your eyeballs!”

She gestured for Atlee to get back in her seat, “Yes, yes. Now calm down, have some water.”

Atlee plopped herself down in the chair, still somewhat shocked and struggling to come to terms with what she’d just seen, “I- I had no idea. No idea. That you could do something like that. I... you can’t possibly use that, ever. Right? I mean, you’d kill someone.”

“Oh? Did I fry your brains by mistake, or did you forget that I just used it to heat my coffee?”

“Yeah, but-” she flailed her hands around as if grasping for some elusive answer, “How?!”

“Control gained through time and effort.”

A bucket of disbelief splashed over Atlee’s face. “Does that mean that... you can, you know, be only somewhat deadly and precise?”

With just one eye open, Power Girl let out a few quick spurts of heat vision. There was no light show or cracking thunder this time around. Atlee eyed her with intense suspicion, though Power Girl did not flinch or falter in her smug confidence. An unspoken dare hung between them. Finally, in a huff, Atlee stomped off to check the remaining cans. About three-quarters down the way, she shouted over her shoulder, “You better not blast any more beams in my direction!”

Shifting the focus of her eyes, Power Girl’s keen vision zoomed in on Atlee as she inspected the cans. Her shocked and amazed expressions proved quite amusing. The mixture of disbelief was a satisfying icing on an already delicious cake. Power Girl could suddenly see the appeal of doing street magic,  even if it was a few simple sleights of hand tricks. The giggle sat light and loose in Power Girl as Atlee rushed back, almost tripping over her feet a few times. Amazed disbelief not only colored her face but her whole being. She kept pointing at the tiny hole in the side of the can. Words tumbled and stumbled over her panting, “I just- wow! How'd you- from that distance- it’s so tiny!”

“Pretty neat, huh?” Her smile faded a shade, “Do you understand now Atlee, just how destructive we can be. And why it’s so important that you can control your powers?”

She hung her head, the can roll in her hands, “...yeah. It’s just hard, you know?”

Power Girl inhaled as she put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, “Yeah. But if it's any comfort there is no magic to it. It’s a skill. And any skill can be learned and mastered. It's merely a question of time and effort invested.”

“I don’t know... It’s just that- your powers and mine- they're so different. You know?”

Power Girl picked up a handful of pebbles. Resting one on top of her index finger, she sent it flying towards the remaining targets with a flick of her thumb. Despite its impressive speed, cutting through the night almost like a bullet, she missed by a long shot. She kept trying, getting a little bit more accurate with each shot fired. After sending the last pebble off, she sighed and admitted, “Yeah. They’re quite different. So how about we keep practicing it together?”

“How...” Atlee started, only to bite down her words. She ran a finger over the melted hole, “How did you learn? Why did you learn to master your powers to such an extent? Since, you know, you didn’t want this life. Playing the white knight.”

Her face grew serious as if Altee’s words had taken her down a windy lane on memory county. One Power Girl rarely visited. An awkward smile held hands with an uneasy chuckle, “Funny how... I haven’t taken my own advice. The one I gave you at school, remember? Talking about stuff bothering you? Anyways. Kind of like you, I woke up to an alien world. Alone. Scared. Lost. I uh... the first human I ran into- she- she died. Because of me. And, uhm... that- you could say that it left an impression on me. A big one. ”

A pause. Atlee took a moment to let the words sink in. As the implications spun their web, she dropped the coffee can as if it was nightmare incarnate, “Oh. Oh god…! Did you…?”

“Hmm? Oh no. No, no, no. Stars and stone, I did not. You see, my pod crash-landed and so I wasn’t properly disconnected from the life support system,” Power Girl twirled her finger next to her head. “Scrambled my head really good. I didn’t know my left from my right, so I stumbled off onto a road. There were a car and the driver, she… she didn’t hit me. But she lost control of her car and- she didn’t make it. Thinking back, knowing what I know today- I could probably have saved her.”

“Ah… so that’s when you decided to master your powers? To help others?”

She scoffed, “I wish I could say it was that noble of a deal. But no. The truth of the matter is that I quickly realized I was different from everyone else. And around here, being different was not accepted. I learned about my abilities and powers so I could better hide them.”

Atlee frowned, “Well that kinda sucks, doesn’t it? Because, y’know, you shouldn’t be afraid of being who you are, right?”

“You got that right, kid,” she ruffled Atlee’s black hair. “I know what you’re going through. What lies ahead. It’s though, it sucks. But since you’ve made your choice, all I can do is prepare you as best I can.”

“Why do you do it? Why do you, you know, help people?”

Power Girl rose to her full height, rolling her shoulders, “There’s the whole noblesse oblige thing that I heard somewhere. But truth be told, in my experience, there is no greater high than succeeding in helping people. Consequently, there is no greater low than when you fail them. Ready for another round?”

The duo continued to experiment with Atlee’s powers, finding new ways to use them as well as refining mastery of old ones. They learned that if Atlee smashed the ground with  her right hand,  it would send out a shock wave that cause d a massive amount of damage. Much like Power Girl’s reliance on the sun, Atlee seemed to have something that fueled her powers as well. It appeared to be the very rocks that she manipulated that acted as fuel. Though she needed to specifically “drain” them. Just what she was draining neither could say for certain. The c oncrete  s hrapnel  proved to be Atlee’s go-to attack. It was a basic attack that rapidly fire d small  rock  projectiles. While experimenting with her floating boulder, Atlee discovered something Power Girl dubbed  Boulder Dash . It allowed Atlee  to be encased in  rocky armor, increasing  her speed and allowing  her to knock over  just about anything she hit. While Atlee still had a long way to go, she was on the right track as far as Power Girl was concerned.

* * *

As soon as the door to Mr. Kord’s office closed behind Karen she looked him straight in the eye and said, “Mr. Kord, I’m terribly sorry for what happened during our last meeting. I sincerely hope that you’ll be able to look past it and give me a second chance.”

“Uh, no… that’s, that’s alright. Please, Ms. Starr, have a seat,” he gestured towards the chair opposite of his cluttered desk. “These things happen. Coffee?”

She let out a sigh of relief, “Yes please.”

“Sugar? Cream?”

“Black please.”

Rigid, like carved out of a slab of granite, Karen sat in her chair. Her eyes glanced around the room with a nervous restlessness while nipping on her lower lip. The polite smile that crossed her lips as she received her coffee with both hands was less than genuine. She hid the trembling sigh meant to calm her nerves as blowing on the steaming hot coffee. Its strong aroma danced a graceful waltz around her nose.

“So, how is he?”

Karen glanced up from her cup, eyebrows high, “Who?”

“Your cat. Is he alright?”

“Oh! Oh, oh yeah. He- crisis adverted,” she gave a light chuckle before downing her next few words in her coffee cup. “For now, at least.”

The corners of his mouth turned up , “Glad to hear it. Right then. So, shall we continue?”

For the next few hours, they talked about the patents that StarrWARE Labs had filed along with how they could be implemented in everyday life. Karen remained firm that her goal was to use this tech to make the world a better place for everyone, not just the superrich. She was particularly set on  using graphene-based tech in the field of medicine. They discussed how it could be used in t issue engineering , d rug delivery , and b io micro-robotics . While he shared her views on how to use the tech, Mr. Kord remained far more grounded when it came to money. Getting these products tested, approved, and put out on the market would take time and money. He argued that if they went too hard and fast on these, it’d cost them dearly. That said, both he and Karen agreed that they should go out of their way to make the finished product as affordable as possible. Neither was keen on building up a fortune based on the misfortune of others. StarrWARE labs would retain the patent rights. Even if Kord Industries made improvements to them, they’d still be based on the original patent and could only use it with StarrWARE lab’s approval. Karen assured him that it’d be unlikely that this would prove an issue, given that they were both on the same page.


	10. Team work makes the dream work

“Deputy Rowe? Andrew Wilson, we spoke on the phone,” Andrew offered his hand.

“Yeah,” Rowe raised a finger, asking for Andrew to wait while he was on the phone. “I understand. Yes. Yes, I understand that ma’am. Uh-huh. We'll look into it. Mm-hm. Yes, okay then. Bye, bye. Sorry about that.”

They shook hands, “Deputy Rowe at your service. You're writing a book, was that it?”

“That’s right. Non-fiction.”

“Right, right. Well, I've got a few minutes so let me show you,” he led the way back outside to the parking lot by the sheriff’s office.

Deputy Rowe went over the events that had led up to the raid on the First Son’s camp. Andrew had forgone his notepad in favor of a voice recorder as he went through his questions. With regards to Power Girl, the good deputy noted that she had been absent at first and did arrive about half an hour into the briefing. Other than that, as far as he was concerned, she’d conducted herself like any other law enforcement officer. Andrew nodded, “And what of the raid itself? You participated in it, correct?”

“It was- uhm, yeah. It was something,” he shifted around, scraping his boot against the ground. “I talked to the sheriff a couple of days after. He'd served in the war, y’know. And, uh, he confessed that it was- that raid was not- it was quite similar to how the war was like. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“How do you think the raid would have panned out had law enforcement not had Power Girl with them?”

Deputy Rowe let out a nervous chuckle, “Like pigs to the slaughter. The cultists were armed to the teeth, not to mention those freaks that they cut loose. We'd get them eventually alright, but the casualties... a lot of lives would have been lost that day.”

“From what I've seen in the police reports, you were towards the rear, correct?”

“Yeah, Power Girl was the one up front, the tip of the spear, and-” the sound of fabric fluttering overhead made deputy Rowe glance up. Andrew followed his gaze.

From up above Power Girl came down for a slow descent. Tucked over her strong shoulders was a young man, stuck in a fireman carry. With her free hand, she gestured towards a free spot on the parking lot where a car-sized boulder gently touched the ground, “Now that’s what I call a smooth landing kid. Ten out of ten.”

The girl hopped off the rock, bubbling with enthusiasm, “I know, right? I'm kinda happy with this one. I like how the flat surface turned out.”

“Deputy. Is the sheriff in?” Power Girl greeted him with a polite nod.

“No. No, he is not.”

“Good, that will make things a little smoother. Found this little guy,” she half turned on the spot so they could see the young man’s face, “down by the docks. I'm bringing him in on misdemeanor vandalism charges.”

The young man waved his hand halfheartedly, “Hi big bro... how’s it hangin’?”

“Delsin... alright, give him here. I'll take care of it.”

Power Girl dropped Delsin off and the deputy took him inside.

The girl inched closer to Power Girl, “Who's that?”

“Reggie Rowe, he’s the deputy here in Paleto Bay. I'll introduce you once they’re done with the paperwork.”

“Is he going to jail?”

Power Girl smiled, “I doubt it kid. Delsin is... he’s going through some family stuff right now. That's why he’s acting out. It's just a phase. He'll bounce back, just you see.”

Andrew took a step forward and cleared his throat, “Power Girl, do you have a minute?”

“Mr. Wilson. Didn't expect to see you out here. I'm sorry, but I don’t have a comment at this time.”

He pocketed his voice recorder, a smile with a touch of frustration crossed his lips, “I’m on your side you know.”

“I do know Mr. Wilson. I’m familiar with your work in the paper. It is much appreciated.”

“Then let me help you. In case you haven’t noticed, they’re raking you over the coals out there. Give me something, anything. I can’t sway the public if you give me nothing to work with.” His words had snark and bark to them that he didn’t realize was there until they had left his mouth.

Power Girl’s face made subtle changes, showing early hints of disapproval. Did he go too far? Sure, she wouldn’t punch him half across the state, but she’d shunned the press for far less in the past. A silent beat passed between them. He had an apology ready to go when she said, “Alright. What’s the main concern this time?”

“Two issues,” he fumbled through his bag for his notebook and pen, “the first one is regarding the final clean up of the First Sons cult. What- why have it taken you so long to resolve this issue?”

Nothing. She didn’t give him a single inch. Tapping his pen, Andrew said, “Oh-kay… uhm, your new partner. There have been concerns regarding who she is, where she came from, how her powers work, and the extent of those powers.”

“I see,” Power Girl looked up to the sky, thinking. She looked him square in the eye, a steeled determination shined in them, “The meta-humans that are roaming free- they’re sick. They need treatment so they can hopefully heal and recover from the abuse they suffered under the cult. Killing them is the quick and easy way out. I’m no killer, Mr. Wilson. I’m willing to exhaust all other options before it comes to that. So, I try to capture them instead. It has proved more… challenging than I expected.”

Andrew’s pen shot over the notebook, leaving a trail of scrambled words in its wake. His heart was galloping in his chest. There were various reports that suggested Power Girl’s hearing was far keener than that of a human. If she didn’t hear his racing heart, she most certainly heard his excited panting. Hopefully, she’d see, she’d understand just how much this meant for him. For her. He finished his writing with a satisfying smack, putting a period in the end. A lick on his thumb and the page turned over. Pen ready, he raised his gaze and tried to read her face. Power Girl still stood there; tall and proud with her guard raised. So close, yet so far away. She still kept him and seemingly everyone else at an arm’s length. What would it take? To bridge that gap, to climb that impossible tall wall that her strong arms represented, as they crossed over her chest?

“Power Girl? I’d like you to fill in some paperwork,” deputy Rowe said. His sudden appearance gave Andrew a small startle. He looked back at Power Girl, his eyes pleading and hoping against hope that she’d stay just a minute, no, half a minute longer.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” her fingers ran through her short blonde hair, scratching at the back of her head as if trying to coax out a thought. “As for the kid. She is… a bit of a mystery, even to me. I’m still investigating her origins. And together we’re working on learning more about her powers. Although fresh on the job, I’m keeping an eye on her. So, yeah.”

“So, you’re saying-”

She raised her hand, “That’ll be all Mr. Wilson. I have no further comment beyond that. Shall we, deputy?”

Andrew smiled as they walked past him. No trace of bitter frustration. Instead, it was a smile of content and clarity. The door to the sheriff’s office closed, leaving him alone outside. They were wrong, every last one of Power Girl’s critics. This had been Andrew’s truth pretty much from day one. He tossed the pen in the air and snatched it. A cheerful little tune tickled out of him in the form of a whistle as he made his way back to his car. Andrew's smile turned into a beaming grin as he walked past the big rock that was neatly parked there. It’d work out. People might stray, but the truth would prevail. Beaten and battered, but certainly not defeated. It’d rise and rise again to crush the lies and rumors. And Andrew could barely contain his excitement over his small, yet pivotal role in it all.

* * *

Halfway through the ringing school bell, students had already put their books away. Their chairs rattled and scraped through the hustle of twenty-something teenagers hurried outside. Atlee remained at her desk; her pen busy as she veered her head side to side to better read the blackboard through the shifting crowd, “Mr. Araya. Could you wait for a little? Or at least, please don’t erase out the diagram... graph thingy.”

He pivoted around, pushing his slim and elegant glasses up his nose, “Sure, no problem. Are you done with this part here?”

“Huh? Yeeeeeeess...? Yeah, I've got it,” she flipped back a few pages before resuming her writing. Her pen left the page with a swift arc and not a second later, the notebook was in her bag. “I’m gonna be late. Thanks, Mr. Araya, I gotta go. See you next week!”

P.E. class followed. By the time Atlee joined the wardrobe, most of the girls were already done changing. Private whispers faded into giggles as they left, throwing smug glances over their shoulders. A quick change of clothes and a breathy apology to the teacher later and Atlee was put to work together with the rest of class. They’d do some light jogging and jumping jacks for warm-up before having a volleyball tournament split between boys and girls. The teacher left organizing teams up to the students themselves while he set up the net. Given the size of their class, they could form four teams; two boy and two girl teams. Their mini-tournament would be a simple girl vs girl, boy vs boy with the finals between the winner of the boys and girls match.

However, the numbers didn’t quite add up among the girls. They needed six players on each team and there was one too many. Social clicks and friends gravitated towards one another, with Atlee standing as the odd one out. Not to be deterred from a lack of invitation, she approached one team with a smile on her face. She waved her hand and had a simple, yet friendly hi at the ready when the team folded in on itself, turning their backs to her. Their idle chatter got notched up a few extra notches with some giggles and chuckle thrown in for good measure. She massaged her hand as if it had been hurt, her smile dimmed to a pale forlorn mask.

Something smacked her in the back of the head. As she pivoted around, clutching the back of her head she saw a boy running up to her, “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to- Jeff! You jerk! Are you alright?”

“Wha? You said you had it, idiot.”

If there ever was someone who’d fit the cliché description of tall, dark, and handsome it’d be this boy. Dark brown hair, short with lots of waves in it. Underneath his brown eyes were a galaxy worth of freckles that lit up when he smiled. His hands were big enough to hold up the volleyball with a single hand. He scolded it as if it was a bad puppy, “Bad ball. Bad. It didn’t hurt, did it?”

“N-no, I'm fine.”

“Great. That's great,” he scratched the side of his nose. “I’ll let you get back to it. It's important to warm up. Which team are you on?”

Atlee couldn’t help but to blush a deep red, “I- uh... don’t have one. But it’s fine because y’know, I’ll just let the teacher know.”

He blinked at her, “You don’t have a team? Tina, hey Tina!”

“What? God, you’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, love you too sweetie,” he gave her a wink. “Anita here doesn’t have a team.”

“Uh... my name-”

Tina, a girl with long raven black hair and a slender build scoffed, “Yeah? Well, we’re full already. It's six, right? Yeah. We're already six.”

“So? Have an extra and just- cycle through, one steps off and the other steps in. We did it last time when Jeff had diarrhea.”

Tina flinched and shuddered, “Gross. Why did you have to remind me?”

“That’s just how I roll. You'll take her in, right?”

She just rolled her eyes and went back to chatting with the other girls. The boy patted Atlee on the shoulder and gave her a thumbs-up, “There ya go. All good in the hood. Oh, by the way, you were saying?”

“Huh?”

“I thought I heard you say something, but I didn’t quite catch it. Plus, Tina interrupted you. What was it?”

“Atlee... my name is Atlee, not Anita,” her voice tethered off into nothingness as she spoke.

“Ah, my bad, my bad. Atlee. Atlee... never heard it before, but it has a nice ring to it. I like it. Well, I better get back to it. See you around, Atlee.”

She gave a weak wave as the boy left, “...yeah.”

* * *

“Hey, do you know if there are any dolls we can borrow?”

Power Girl’s eyebrow trekked upwards, “Dolls?”

“Yeah, you know. Dolls.”

She let out a hearty sigh before putting down a stack of books on the table, “Why do you want to borrow dolls?”

Atlee made talons with her fingers, “I’ve been thinking of this new move. Maybe, just maybe I can stop criminals from escaping by encasing their legs in solid rock!”

“Sounds dangerous. Here,” she handed Atlee a book.

“Yeah, I know that. Like, duh, I’m not going to just do it. But I figured if we had some dolls I could, you know, practice on them first. And then… maybe on you…?”

She looked at Atlee with a deadpan expression for a moment before she said, “Absolutely not. Now look here, this is important.”

The duo had swung by the mission row police station and borrowed the briefing room. Power Girl had noticed that Atlee had started to feel quite at home on her yacht. Up to the point where it started to affect her studies. In an effort to keep Atlee focused, she’d brought her to the police station. A neat little bonus was Atlee’s gradual introduction to the police force. Police procedure and law was on today’s menu. By the looks of it though, Atlee was anything but eager to learn, let alone read, “Can we take a break?”

Power Girl glanced up at the watch, “It’s not even five minutes since we started.”

“Yeah, but… breaks are important, you know?”

“Stop chewing on that pencil.” Atlee gave her a look and did as she was told, though under silent protest. “Look, we’ll have a break after an hour. Now pay attention.”

“An hour?” she started to fake cry in her seat. “What is this anyway? My head hurts just looking at the title.”

“This is the 1966 U.S. Supreme Court case Miranda v. Arizona, 384 US 436. When someone is taken into custody or custodial interrogation, we give them a Miranda warning or rights if you will. It’s very important that you learn this Atlee, so pay attention and read it carefully.”

Though she sulked and pouted, Atlee did straighten in her seat and gave it a serious read. Power Girl nodded to herself and took the opportunity to refresh her own knowledge. However, it didn’t take many minutes before Atlee threw up her arms in frustration, “What is this crap? Why can’t they write like- y’know, normal?”

“I’m sorry, but the U.S. Supreme Court does not write to entertain,” Power Girl passed her a note. “Here, memorize this text. This is what you tell people you take into custody.”

Atlee snatched the note out of her hand, reading it under her breath as she mumbled and grumbled to herself, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.”

A pause followed. From the looks of it, Atlee seemed to be going over the note again and again. Though with each passing, her frustration seemed to grow until finally, “Why?! Why is it so long? Why is it so goddamn difficult?”

“Language.”

“Language?! This!” she flopped the note in front of Power Girl’s face. “This is not language. It’s crappy language. And I’ve got to say all of this, every time?”

“Every time you take someone into custody or custodial interrogation, yes. All of it, every word.”

“Why?”

Power Girl let out a heavy sigh, “Because it’s the law, Atlee. If you want to use your powers to enforce the law, you have to know it and follow it flawlessly. Otherwise, there will be trouble.”

“Trouble how?”

“The Supreme Court held that the admission of an elicited incriminating statement by a suspect not informed of these rights violates the Fifth Amendment and the Sixth Amendment right to counsel.”

Atlee looked at her as if she was speaking Kryptonian. An awkward moment of silence came and went before Atlee just blinked and urged her to translate. Power Girl pinched the bridge of her nose, “The bad guys can walk away from the crime they admitted to committing, basically.”

“Huh? That’s not fair, we caught them!”

“Look, people here have rights. There’s a system in place and both sides, police, and criminals, try to game that system. For better or worse, that’s how it is. If you think it’s unfair that they walk away, memorize the note and remember to say it each and every time.”

“This is stupid. Why don’t you say it and I’ll use my powers?”

Power Girl shrugged, “Sure for starters, but I’m assuming that eventually, you’d want to act on your own. Go on your own patrols, become more independent. Or are you going to cling to my cape for the entirety of your career?”

“…no.”

“Then eat the frog,” she nudged the book closer to Atlee.

“Can’t we just- borrow some dolls instead? You know, so we can practice the thing I suggested?”

“No, not today. Today we read and we study. We’ll see tomorrow.”

Atlee sunk back in her chair, arms crossed, “Don’t wanna.”

“Excuse me?”

She pushed back the book as if it was a disgusting bowl of soup, “This isn’t fun. This is boring. Don’t wanna do it.”

A quiet beat. Tension hung thick in the air between them. Only the tic-tock of the clock tapped against the deadly silence. Power Girl slapped her book shut; the sudden smack made Atlee jolt in her seat. Although she shrank back and fear quivered through her frame as Power Girl loomed over her, Atlee stood her ground firm. Power Girl inhaled and exhaled, deep and slow. Her jaw tensed; a palm spread out over Atlee’s desk. Her other hand boxed her in by grabbing hold of the back of her chair. A short sigh. Power Girl broke off and started to pace around in the briefing room, “Why are you so eager to try this new trick of yours?”

Atlee shrugged, “I dunno… it sounds fun to do. The- the way feet touch the ground when they’re running, timing it right. Catching them would be kinda like a game.”

“A game?” she looked over her shoulder.

“Yeah, like- like that, uh what’s it called?” She snapped her fingers a few times as if trying to catch the word from the air, “Tag?”

Power Girl shook her head, “This is not a game. And no, you’re not going to even try to do such a thing with your powers.”

“Why not?!” Atlee shot out of her seat, slamming her palms against her desk.

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Power Girl stepped up with an accusing finger. “It’s too dangerous. You could seriously hurt the one you try to capture and there are better, safer ways to catch them.”

“I know it’s dangerous, idiot! That’s why I want to practice it on dolls first.”

“For the last time, language! Besides, dolls are dolls. Humans are humans. Forget it, kid, it’s not going to happen. Not on my watch!”

Atlee looked like she had something to say. About several dozen things. Yet nothing came out. Not one word, not a single sound. Instead, her lip started to quiver as tears welled up her eyes. Power Girl froze. Just as she reached out and offered a sympathetic hand, she said, “Look kid, I-”

But Atlee didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to listen. She just wanted to getaway. Alone in the briefing room, Power Girl hung her head low, “…fuck.”

* * *

“And then she just said, watch your head, sir, as she eased him into the police car. It's just- she's so cool, you know? When she’s on the job, she’s on the job.”

Rose nodded and smiled while she dried her hair. Sharing stories about their day had become a staple in their daily routine. Though Rose still kept to her cabin for the most part, so her stories usually restricted themselves to crew gossip and minor shenanigans. Atlee on the other hand was more than happy to share her day. In fact, Rose would be hard-pressed to keep the young girl from bubbling over with delight and excitement. Retellings of her patrols together with Power Girl was a bit of a highlight. It had been a world largely unknown to Rose. She’d only seen fleeting glimpses of it, the bitter fruits of her labor. The bruises, flinching as she left her bed, the cuts that stun in the shower. Ms. Starr didn’t talk much about her work and Rose wasn’t one to pry. If anything, she seemed more than happy to put it all aside whenever Rose needed something.

“What about school, Atlee?”

“About that,” she squirmed bashfully on her chair. “I... uh... you know the, uh, the, the civil war, right?”

“Yeah... kind of. It's been a while. What about it?”

A blush made a steady spread over her face, peaking at her ears, “There’s like, this group thing, you know? Aaaaand... and there’s a guy.”

Rose's hand stopped, “...oh.”

She heard Atlee out without really listening. Only snippets dripped through and fully registered. Something about gym class, helping her out. It started so simple, so innocent. Stranded in a cold crowd, even a passing pat on the shoulder would stand out as a blessing from the high heavens. He was apparently quite the guy, not just in gym class but also in history class. Making him the leader of their group made perfect sense, everyone was just drawn to him. Charm and charisma up to his eyeballs. At least according to Atlee who by the looks of it was utterly spellbound. That dreamy look in her eyes, as if she was gazing at his mirage, the almost lyrical spring to her voice as she testified her love. Rose had seen and heard it all before. Her older sister was just the same. Ms. Starr also. Atlee had, at least according to herself, made it into art not to show the world that it was this boy in particular. But now, her feelings could no longer be denied. She’d come to realize not to compromise. As far as Rose could tell by deciphering her rather bombastic prose, Atlee was convinced that it's gonna be exactly like... in a movie where she’d be completely his and he’d be hers.

“I’ve felt so insecure even though I never understood what it's good for. I gotta make sure the darkness won't stop me again. I can't sit and wait anymore! Please help me out here Rose. I don’t know what to say or, or do.”

“...I,” Rose swallowed, her breathing rapid and shallow. “I don’t- I don’t have much experience either. S-so I don’t think my advice would do you any good. But! But, but you could perhaps ask Ms. Starr? She knows more about that kind of thing than I do.”

“Yeah? Huh, I didn’t know that. But it’s embarrassing, y’know?!”

She kept folding the towel in her lap, “What are you talking about? It's Ms. Starr. She's a good listener. Plus, you already told me everything, right?”

Atlee pouted, “You are you. Karen is Karen. The two of you are like, worlds apart, y’know?”

“Mm... I know.”

“You really have no good ideas? Anything will do, you know? I'm totally clueless when it comes to this stuff.”

She forced a smile and raised her head, “Positive. As you said, I and Ms. Starr are worlds apart. I'm sure she’d be willing to help you out if you just ask for help.”

Atlee studied her face closely for a good minute before she shrugged, “Okay. Guess I'll just have to see her then. Ooooh boy...”

The cabin door closed shut behind Atlee, leaving Rose alone in the cabin. A deep, shivering sigh deflated her rigid spine. She bundled up into a small ball, nibbling on a fingernail, “Some older sister I am...”


	11. All that I know

In one corner the printer worked rhythmically, spitting out page after page while it wobbled side to side on top of a rickety table whose legs were far too thin and long to keep up with it. Each page did a little elegant bend through the air before settling on the floor. On top of a stack of ring binders, a coffee maker puttered and bubbled. It leaned slightly to the side. By the looks of it, it seemed to wait for some half-baked excuse to go on a swift escapade together with gravity. One of Karen’s hands let its fingernails scrape and jab at the mechanical keyboard. Faster and faster. The only pause they were given was a quick double-tap on the Enter key. With her free hand, she drunk with greed from her coffee cup, finishing off the last mouthful of half-warm coffee. Her eyes showed early signs of being bloodshot. Yet they remained focused, shifting quickly between the monitor and the printer. 

“Uh, Karen?” The voice made her pause. By the doorway to her office stood Atlee, “Is this a bad time? ‘Cause, you know, I can come back later.”

“Not going to lie, Atlee, this- this crap is driving me up the wall,” she slumped back on her chair. “But I also need a break. Come on, let’s change the scenery a little.”

Karen stretched and groaned as the two of them headed for the master bedroom. From the corner of her eye, she could tell that Atlee had something on her mind that she wanted to talk about. However, by the looks of it, she was either unsure or too embarrassed to bring up the subject. Massaging her back and shoulder, Karen said, “Something on your mind Atlee?”

“Oh, uh… yeah. No. Not really.”

She sat down on the bed and patted a spot next to her, “Tell you what Atlee. I’m just going to sit here and listen. If you want to talk, talk. If you don’t want to, we can just sit here and chill for a bit.”

“Oh. Okay,” Atlee sank next to Karen. A silent minute passed by before she spoke up, “You know guys, right?”

Karen nodded.

“So… in my class, or rather one of my classes, there’s this- guy. And he’s like, you know, really, really cute. We had this history group project about the civil war and he was so kind. And helpful. And smart.”  Her mouth curved into a smile ; her cheeks grew just a tad pinker. She continued, “You know the way he playfully goofs around, yet knows exactly when to stop so he’s not a jerk? Yeah, that’s- that’s really cute. I like that.”

Atlee went on at length gushing over this boy from her history class. All the time, Karen just sat there, giving her full attention. Before long the two of them were sprawled out over Karen’s bed. She listened, nodded along, and simply couldn’t stop smiling. The kind of smile one has when one is happy for someone else’s happiness. As much as Atlee was telling Karen all about her crush, she had the impression that Atlee was dancing around the heart of the subject. The hope that Atlee would come around to it on her own faded as she talked in increasingly smaller circles, so Karen said, “Look, I don’t mean to interrupt, but this guy. Does he have a name?”

“Connor.”

“Connor? Okay. He sounds like a great guy. Did you just want to gush about him? That’s fine, I totally get it,” she tilted her head. “But I have a hunch that’s not all there’s to it.”

Atlee hugged a pillow close, “Yeah… the thing is- I really, really like him. But I just don’t know how to tell him. Or what should I do if-”

Karen put a finger on her lips, “Let me stop you right there. The way I see it, there’s no magic to it. Just tell him how you feel. In no uncertain terms. Because guys can be rather dense at times.”

“Really?”

She took a deep breath as if to calm a frustrating memory, “Oh yeah. Sometimes you even have to hit them over the head with it. Multiple times. Like a frying pan.”

“But, but you know… how? I asked Rose for some pointers, but,” Atlee shrugged. “She kinda just sent me over to you and, you know, here I am.”

Karen made a face as she straightened herself up a bit, “Yeah… look, if there was a one size fits all solution to this kind of thing, the world would be a better place. But it turns out, we’re shit out of luck. And we’ll just have to… improvise, adapt and overcome as best we can.”

“What? I just- wing it?”

“You’d be surprised how many adults do the same thing. On a daily basis even.”

“Karen…!” Atlee groaned while rolling around on the bed, “help me out here, please. I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s dial back the drama a few levels and look at the issue more critically,” Karen straightened herself as she sat cross-legged directly in front of Atlee. “First off, what’s your biggest concern?”

“That he’ll hate me.”

Karen blinked, “Atlee… from what you’ve told me, Connor is a halo short of being an angel. But okay, why would he hate you?”

“’Cause…” Atlee’s voice started brave, but as the realization dawned on her, it shrunk back to a mumble, “I’m different. He might see me as a freak.”

“Does he know?”

Atlee shook her head, “I don’t think so. I mean, it’s not like I’ve asked him you know?”

“Atlee, look at me,” their eyes met. “Do you see yourself as a freak?”

She adverted her eyes, plucking on the pillow in her lap, “Kinda. I just wanna be, like this perfect girl for him. He deserves that, you know?” She swiped away a tear, “Kinda hard to be perfect when you’re a freak like me.”

Karen put a finger underneath her chin, raising it, “I’m not Connor, but I like you just the way you are. Don’t sell yourself short and try to be something or someone you’re not for someone or something else.” 

Atlee bit on her lower lip, forced a smile, and nodded. Karen left a soft kiss on her forehead before slipping out of bed. She grimaced at the wardrobe door as it creaked when she opened it. Muffled mutterings hung underneath Karen’s breath as she rummaged through the clothes. After a little while, she came back with a box and put it in front of Atlee, “I did some tests a few weeks back using technology my parents left me. And I came up with this.”

She looked at Karen with skeptical eyes. Hesitant fingers touched the plain-looking cardboard box. Her eyes went from the box to Karen and back again. Karen nodded to encourage her to explore  further. The lid came off. Soft rustle of thin, almost transparent paper followed. Behind the papers, ghostly veil clothing of sorts rested in a neatly folded fashion. Atlee brushed the paper aside and held up the clothing. It looked much like a wet suit, thick fabric of jet black and pale pure white. Seeing Atlee’s puzzled look, Karen said, “Accept yourself and who you are Atlee. This is, for the lack of a better term, your uniform for when we patrol together.”

“Really?!” her whole face lit up as she scrambled out of bed, hugging the suit close.

“Yeah, I figured getting more comfortable with your abilities is a good way to-”

Atlee bounced up to her, “Karen, Karen! What’s my name?”

“Uh…? Atlee?”

“Aw, don’t I get a cool one like you have?”

It was clear from her expression that Karen wasn’t following along, “Cool one? You want to have a name cha- Oh, you mean Power Girl?”

“Yes! That’s exactly it. What name do I get?” Atlee’s eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and expectation.

“Well, you see the thing is,” she scratched her head sheepishly, “I didn’t really come up with that name. It got thrown around in the news a lot and it kinda just stuck.”

“So, I don’t get one…?” her lower lip started to trek outwards, forming a balcony.

“No, it’s just- oh fine. How about, erh, Terra?”

“What does that mean?”

“Earth. It’s from some old human language. Can’t remember which one at the moment, but since your power is to move the earth and rocks around…” Karen shrugged.

“Terra…” Atlee said it as if giving the name a taste. A smile formed on her lips, “I like it. Thanks, Karen!”

* * *

“Your boulder, park it over there,” Power Girl gestured towards a small parking lot as she made her descent. 

“So, who is this guy again?”

“Max Lord, he’s my PR manager.”

Terra followed her inside. The building that housed Max’s office had seen better years. As was tradition, the elevator was out of order so the two of them took the stairs. Wood creaked underneath their feet and on a few occasions Power Girl picked up the sound of rats scuffling away. It was clear that Terra was out of her element. The way she kept her hands to herself instead on the rails, her shifting gaze, and anxious eyes. Who could blame her? This was a far cry from the luxurious and sparkling clean yacht that she was used to. Still, it served its purpose. Max’s office location was another piece in Power Girl’s defense to protect her identity. 

He knew. Max had found out all on his own. Whether one would write it off as a stroke of bad luck or simply a matter of time was beside the point. Max had been close enough and long enough to  Power Girl that when he met with Karen Starr last year, he put two and two together. Thankfully he kept quiet then and there. Stunned to the point of disbelief had its perks apparently. A cease-fire was agreed upon; Max would stay in his shabby office to keep a distance from both Karen and Power Girl. Plus, it’d reinforced the idea that since Power Girl wasn’t whoring herself out as a brand or celebrity, she didn’t have much money. There were limits to what one could buy on a police officer’s salary. That said, Power Girl wasn’t heartless. She did after all possess two hearts, neither one made of stone. She did pay Max fairly for his services at keeping the media off at an arm’s length. Though looking forward, that pay might get a bump.

Knocking on the door, Power Girl said, “Max? We’re here.”

“Come in, come in,” Max got out of his chair, a smile as wide and bright as the sun itself on his smile. “You’re right on time. I take it that traffic wasn’t too bad?”

She shook his hand, a slightly annoyed smile crossed her lips, “Always the same old joke, huh? I told you it was starting to wear thin, what, seven months ago?”

“Bah, there’s no need to change the classics,” he brushed her off before looking behind her. “Oh, and this is the young lady in question?”

Terra shrunk behind Power Girl’s cape, “Yes. This is my sidekick and partner, Terra. Terra, this is Maxwell Lord.”

“H-hi…”

“Good, good. A pleasure to meet you, Terra. Why- why don’t we have a seat, hmm?”

Leather creaked under their weight as they settled in while Max tidied his desk. Papers got swept into files and put aside. By the looks of it, there was a system in place. Just what the system was, Power Girl could not tell. A corner of her mouth turned into a subtle half-smile when she noticed the empty ashtray on his desk. Tucked away in a corner stood a brand-new air purifier, “That’s new.”

“Hm? Oh. That. Yeah, I saw the doctor the other day. Last week? Something like that,” Max shook his head and shrugged. “What can I say? Got to listen to the doctors’ orders, right?”

Power Girl gave him small golf applause, “Good, good. I’m happy for you Max. I really am.”

He didn’t look too impressed, “Stop using my catchphrase. It doesn’t sound right.”

“Fair enough.”

“Now then,” he settled in his chair and rubbed his hands together, “what can I help you with?”

Power Girl started to lay out her plan. She’d like Max’s help to take control over the narrative as Terra makes her official debut. Power Girl stressed the training they’d done regarding her powers, going through the same c urriculum as any other police officer, plus making sure that Terra not only met the  physical fitness exam but surpassed it. She’d gone together with Power Girl on a few ride-along trips to see how it is like working out in the field. And so far, so good. At least as far as Power Girl could tell. For the whole talk, Max just sat there, listening. Now and then, he’d jot something down on his notepad. Finally, Power Girl let out a deep breath, “Look, at the end of the day, I just don’t want them to pounce her and tear her apart.”

Max gestured helplessly with his hand, “It’s what the press does. They love nothing more than to build people up, only to tear them down.”

“Yes, yes, but I’d like to minimize it,” she pushed all five fingers on his desk, stressing her point.

“It’s going to be though.”

Power Girl rolled her eyes, “When is it ever easy?”

“No, you miss the point. It’s going to be though, especially because of you two.”

Terra and Power Girl exchanged glances before they said in almost perfect union, “I don’t follow.”

“Okay… I’m not sure how much attention you’re paying to the news, but you’re not doing so great. There are a lot of talking heads that put you under fire.”

Power Girl spread her hands while making an offended face, “What for?”

“Well, there’s the general secrecy surrounding you. Conspiracy theorists are having a field day with it, but that’s fringe so… but for the general public, there’s this lack of transparency with you that is wearing thin. Also, also, you’re- you’re considered weak. In some media circles.”

“Excuse me?” she straightened in her seat. “How the flying f- explain.”

“It’s these meta-humans that popped out of that cult,” Max waved his hand dismissively. “People are uneasy with them running around. They want them dealt with. Dead. Gone. And many think you should deal the killing blow.”

“Stars and stone Max, those people are sick. They need help, treatment. Not a bullet in the head. Look, I’m a lot of things, but I’d rather not be a killer.”

He raised his hands defensively, “I know, I know. I keep stressing the same point at every chance I get. But… many see this as your mess and you should clean it up. Others think and speculate that you’re letting them live so you can- you can stage a coup.”

“Oh, come on!” Her fingers dragged themselves through her blonde hair as she arched backward in her seat. “That’s- that’s ridiculous. I’d be dead within the hour if I as much as entertained the thought. Even as a joke.”

“Yeah, well…” there was something defeated about the way Max fiddled with his pen, “so you can see why bringing a side-kick into the spotlight. One that has powers and was mentored by you. It’d be like throwing napalm on a fire.”

Power Girl rested her face in her hand, leaning heavily on her armrest. She could see the point that Max was making. From an outsider, looking in on a shady, secretive individual with powers above and beyond the common man’s understanding, it made sense. So much of humanity’s history was all about conquest, subrogation, or even the eradication of the lesser. If they were allowed to exist, it’d be under the heavy boot and heel of the supreme. No wonder people projected that outlook onto her. Even if it couldn’t be further from the truth. A hand, young to touch, folded over hers. There was a plea in Terra’s eyes. A plea for her hopes and dreams. For her future. It’d be easy to just say no. They’d have to wait. Ride the storm, let it blow over, and allow Terra to grow up.

However, it was just so frustrating. That they had to be at the beck and call, this cruel mistress that was the public’s opinion. And Power Girl had never been one to bow out from a challenge. Compromises had been made along the way, but her stubborn defiance was never extinguished. So why should she start now? What was it that Terra had said? E veryone admires the bold, no one honors the timid . She put a hand on top of Terra’s, an assuring smile on her lips, “Alright, look… we’ll  press ahead. I’ll keep a close eye on Terra. We’ll start small, baby steps and all that. I know Max, I know. It won’t shut them up. Not all of them. But as long as we do our jobs by the book, at least they can’t pin that on us.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Max, “Oh boy… I sure picked the wrong week to stop smoking.”

* * *

Ted swiped the sweat from his brow with a hand smeared with oil. The washed-out blue overalls were a far cry from the tailor-made suits he wore at the office. Not to mention the poor acoustics in the workshop which amplified every banging hammer or working machinery as the noise bounced about. His back protested and joints creaked as he rose to his full height. Despite the fatigue that had turned his bones to led, Ted couldn’t stop grinning. Disassembling, examining every nut, bolt, circuit board, and wire never went out of style. 

Ever since he was a kid, Ted had been a tinkerer. Lego blocks, puzzles were some of his favorite toys, all neatly wrapped in a fluffy blanket of nostalgia. As he grew a little older, video games caught his eye. Though he quickly grew bored with the simplistic systems and mechanics of the games themselves, the code that breathed life to the primitive graphics was the true marvel as far as he was concerned. About half a decade later Ted got his license and with it, got introduced to the world of cars. And what a world it was. His first car was a  banged-up heap of rust and broken glass.  It bled more oil than a gutted pig, but he loved it. If someone asked him how much time or money he sunk into that car, there was no way he could give them a straight answer. One thing was for certain though, he loved every second of it.

College was a delight, though for rather unorthodox reasons. There was so much to learn, Ted’s teachers were like these near bottomless wells of knowledge that he could drink from. It was challenging, frustratingly so more often than not, but Ted loved it nonetheless. To him, there were no greater high than to finally solve a problem after wrestling with it for hours on end. Few were surprised when he graduated in the top five in his class. With the world at its feet, Ted could have gotten a well-paying job just about anywhere in the country. And he’d be lying if he said that some of the offers weren’t tempting. After all, who wouldn’t want to play around in the biggest toy box with all the expensive toys? Though Ted set his sight on something else.

If there was one thing that could come close to Ted’s gleeful obsession to tinker, it’d be his willingness to help others. Rewinding to his teenage years, he quickly became the go-to guy for fixing cars among his buddies. He looked at the problem, gave them a list of parts, and did the repairs himself. He also dabbled with plumbing , fridges, and stoves. Family, friends, and the guys next door – Ted helped each and every one. It was one of the few things that could pry him away from whatever he was currently working on. So, to those that really knew Ted, it didn’t come as much of a surprise when he said he’d like to start a business of his own. It allowed him to be his own boss, taking assignments, and contracts that helped people more than they fattened his own bank account. Plus, being a start-up Ted wasn’t really swimming in staff which meant that more than once he’d have to roll up his sleeves to get the job done on time. Those early years were some of the best of his life.

Over the next decade and a half, Ted’s business grew. Though they say that success comes at a price and in Ted’s case it meant he got more and more shackled to his desk. Not that he despised desks. Lord knows he spent plenty a long night in college mulling over some engineering problem or another. It was rather the nature of the work he was doing. Crunching numbers and making sense of blueprints were one thing, talking to lawyers, signing contracts, and shaking hands were different  beasts.  Over the past year or so, Ted had found himself at a crossroads of sorts. As much as he didn’t care for meetings and contracts, he acknowledged them as necessary evils. And it wouldn’t be nearly as bad if he could still find some refuge in tinkering. But the thing was, the fire had grown dim. He could only do so much as he refused to risk the livelihood of his staff and of the things he could do, few things excited him. It was nice and all, but Ted kept dragging this chunk of rock that had  _ been there, done that _ engraved into it. His desire to help people with his tinkering had reached an equilibrium. While it wasn’t a bad place to be, all things considered, Ted would love nothing more than to have one last go. Something he could hold up high and proclaim to be his swansong. 

As luck would have it, Ted got his chance when Karen Starr presented her idea to him. It was out of this world, taking him back to those early self-made projects of his Ted had tinkered within his dad’s garage. A horrible Frankenstein  abomination of  brilliant, highly polished, and refined ideas with some on-the-spot improvised and only partially working solution crudely duct-taped to the side. While there was not much he had to offer as far as the more polished concepts went, refining the improvised parts would indeed be the crowning jewel of his career.  Although Ms. Starr was a smart, capable, competent, and successful woman in her own right, there was something about the plans she presented that didn’t quite line up. Sure, Ted could be way off the mark or Ms. Starr simply played with the cards close to her chest, but he suspected that the ideas were not entirely her own. They were far too polished, or rather the designs were too uneven to be the work of a single mind.

His stomach growled, finally getting his attention. A pang of hunger hit him and suddenly his fatigue made that much more sense. According to the clock on the workshop, lunchtime has come and gone though that didn’t stop Ted from swinging by the cafeteria. Friday’s were always lively, the kitchen staff usually flexed with something extra tasty, and with the weekend only a couple of hours away, their mood was on a steady rise. The banter and laughter sat fast and loose over the clattering of dishes. Ted secured himself some fruit from a bowl and started back towards the workshop. 

A news broadcast caught his interest, bringing him to a screeching halt. It showed a press conference, introducing Power Girl’s new partner Terra to the world. There was a lot of fuzz regarding her age, qualifications, training, and just how her powers worked differently from Power Girl. All of that was nothing but white noise to Ted. What really had his attention was the clothes Terra was wearing. It was a suit of a simple black and white design, more akin to a wet suit than anything else. He’d seen that exact suit before. Ms. Starr had come by asking for a demonstration on one of the prototypes. As a test, she had Ted 3D print out a suit, the very same suit that Terra was wearing on live TV. He smiled, taking a big bite of his apple, “I knew it.”

* * *

There was a time when Rose could actually see her desk. Sure, the laptop, mousepad, and notebooks took space but these things were neatly organized. Rose had always tried to take good care of her belongings, a habit that only got amplified with Hitomi as her roommate. She lived up to her nickname as the Queen of Cleanness. Atlee on the other hand... was young in more ways than one. And as heartwarming and adorable it may be to see her mind blown over something most people take for granted, it was not without its downsides. For one, Atlee had next to no concept of system, order, or tidiness. Storing and putting things away after using them just didn’t happen. And her hanging so much around Ms. Starr didn’t help. Her so-called work office looked like a couple of freshly detonated car bombs. It always had, at least for as long as Rose had known her. On top of all that, Atlee was busy. Busy with the school which came with a pile or two of books, and busy with  learning the ins and out of law enforcement, which added some really heavy-duty brick-like books to the mix. 

So, for the hundredth or so time, Rose rolled up her sleeves and started tidying up. She'd get it, eventually. Though Rose had to admit to herself that progress was slow. At least Atlee was using the trash bin correctly, so the days of tucked-away undead banana peels were gone. Clothes, which Atlee often piled on a single chair until they spilled all over the floor, got sorted out and sent to the washing machine. Rose hit her stride as she twirled through the little cabin-like a white cleaning tornado. The twisted abomination that was her bedsheets got straightened out, pillow puffed and quilt folded. Books closed with the bookmarks firmly secured before getting returned to their rightful place on the bookshelf. Stationaries got swept up and- Rose stopped. In the drawer, peeking out from behind a notepad, was a college brochure. 

She scoffed and shook her head. Fishing it out of the drawer, it landed in the trash with a flat splat. What good would it do her? It was last year's brochure anyway. With the desk clean, at least to the point where one could see the top panel, Rose didn’t stop. While she was at it, she might as well dust things down, go over the bathroom, and vacuum. On her way to fetch cleaning supplies, Rose walked past the crew resting area. The two engineers, Martin and Ronnie had stopped by for a quick break and were watching the news while Mr. Hall fixed them something to eat. A press conference of sorts was hugging all of the spotlights on every news channel. 

“You think she’ll be fine?” Ronnie asked.

Martin shrugged and sighed, “Hard to say. Can't really say it's my field of expertise, but Ms. Starr felt she was ready so... here we are. Oh, thanks, Carter.”

“Uhm... what’s going on?”

“’ Sup Rose? Ms. Starr can finally call herself a fully fledge Jedi Master now. Her padawan is making her debut.”

Martin struggled to get the mayonnaise on his sandwich under control before he added, “Let’s hope she gets a long and prosperous career.”

“Is that so?” Rose looked on the TV that was tucked off up in the corner. Behind a hedge of microphones stood Max Lord. As per tradition, he got barraged with questions regarding where Power Girl was despite his sincere effort to steer the conversation towards Atlee. Or rather Terra as she was introduced to the public. She might have picked up a bad habit or two from Ms. Starr as far as cleaning went, but on the flip side, she had also adopted her boldness. Leaping forward into the unknown, undaunted by whatever the world may throw her way. Rose's grip on the vacuum cleaner tightened for a moment before she left on hurried feet.

Secure once more in the snug embrace of her cabin, she shook her head and slapped both of her cheeks a few times. The carpet wouldn’t vacuum itself after all. As soon as the vacuuming was done, Rose jumped straight on to tackle the shower. Her hands moved hard and fast, the sponge stuck firmly in her grip. She carried on washing off excess soap water and sweat with an almost robotic detachment before turning her attention to the trash bin. Just as she was about to close off the bag with a tight knot, Rose paused. As soon as she did, a heavy blanket of fatigue landed on her shoulders. It sank into her bones, sapping the knees for strength until she plopped herself down on the chair.

Careful, as if fishing up a dead rat, Rose retrieved the college brochure from the bag. She swallowed; the little adrenaline boosts her hasty scrubbing had given her were already fading from her system. Plopping the brochure on the desk, Rose started up her laptop. Just a quick peek she told herself. That day, Rose almost missed dinner.


	12. Restrictive Reality

Andrew looked especially sharp this morning. Sporting some of his finer clothes, a fresh haircut, and a neatly trimmed beard his gait had an almost childlike excitement in. He climbed the stairs to his publisher’s office two steps at the time, always with a smile on his face and being generous with both winks and finger guns to the staff he met along the way. As he arrived at the secretary’s desk, Andrew paused. His hands found his pockets, did anyone return his smiles? Generally speaking, he considered a good mood to be about as contagious as a bad mood. So why the lackluster response? A half shrug dismissed his concerns, “Hi. Andrew Wilson, they’re expecting me.”

“Mr. Wilson is here,” the elderly secretary maintained a calm professional exterior. “They’ll see you now Mr. Wilson.”

As he entered the office, Andrew might as well have taken a step or two back in time. Gone were the sleek, cold, and borderline sterile modern design of the main building. Deep, warm colors filled the room. The only trace of the modern world was the computer on the desk and the spotlights that were neatly fit in their sockets in the ceiling. Bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling lined up the walls like knights of old. Stoic and proud they displayed their treasure. Dozens of books, leather-bound in darker colors with golden letters decorating their spines. Between them were oil paintings, portraits of the previous owners. Several generations wroth of legacy. A couple of leather chairs stood before the desk, the dark brown type that creaked with every move one made while seated. Behind the desk sat the man himself, an elderly gentleman and great-grandson of the founder of this fine establishment. In another chair sat Andrew’s agent, Melissa.

“Mr. Wilson, pardon me for not getting up. My knees aren’t what they used to be I’m afraid.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Mr. Powers,” he shook his hand before taking a seat. “So, what did you want to discuss? Must be something big since you didn’t take it over e-mail or phone.”

Mr. Powers gestured dismissively at his computer, “Call me old-fashioned and laugh all you want but give me a typewriter any day I say. I’ll not sit here and waste your time, Mr. Wilson. You’re here because of your latest book.”

“Okay… is there a problem? The final draft of the manuscript was delivered on time and within the allotted word limit. Right, Melissa?” He glanced over at her but she averted his gaze. Her fingers touched the lock of her newly dyed hair.

“No, no. Neither of those is an issue, Mr. Wilson. Mrs. Watson here has done an outstanding job, as per usual. I assure you.”

Andrew leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, “I don’t follow.”

Mr. Powers wrinkled and old lips pulled slightly back in a pained smile. It reminded Andrew about the time when his own grandfather had him on his lap and explained to him that Santa was not real. He inhaled and held his breath, quiet as a mouse. Mr. Powers removed his thick glasses with trembling hands, “Mr. Wilson, I utterly hate to be the bearer of bad news. But we’re canceling our contract.”

His lips parted as if holding an unspoken word in place. The leather chair creaked when he straightened, his eyes shifting between Mr. Powers and Melissa. He looked for support, understanding, or even sympathy but found little. Andrew stroked his beard, “Uhm… why?”

“I’m retiring, Mr. Wilson. I’d like if at all possible, to keep the family business in the family. Garrick, my eldest, this was his condition. He finds your latest work…  unsatisfactory .”

“Yeah? Okay, but I can talk to him. Mr. Powers, if you could set up a meeting, I’d be more than happ-”

Mr. Powers raised a trembling hand, “The decision, I’m afraid, is mine. The buck, as they say, stops here.”

He scoffed. The very act left him a deflated shell, “May I ask what his reasoning is?”

“Garrick is,” Mr. Powers shrugged with nothing but his wrists, glasses still in hand, “not a people’s person, I’m sorry to say. Oh, he’s quite competent to run the business. I assure you. But he sees the job, the title, and the numbers far clearer than the person who stands behind those things.”

“He’s worried-” Andrew looked away, his fist lightly bumping his mouth. He leaned forward, palms pressed together, “Mr. Powers, you know how much I respect you. So, I mean no offense, but you have other children. If you don’t mind me asking, why Garrick?”

“As I said, he’s my eldest.”

“Right… right, of course,” he took a deep breath as he sank back into his chair. “I appreciate that you took time to tell me this face to face, Mr. Powers. A lesser man would have hidden behind someone or something. So, what- uh, what happens next?”

Melissa cleared her throat, “We’ve agreed that of the eighty thousand advancements, you’ll keep thirty thousand. All rights will revert to you.”

What followed were minor formalities of signing papers that got closed off with awkward handshakes and mumbling goodbyes. Alone, back in his car, Andrew’s hand rested on the ignition key. It clicked in place, enough to turn on the power but not start the engine. He shook his head and scoffed, turning the key back again. Drawing a calming breath, he tried again. This time the engine rumbled to life along with the radio. Hands found the steering wheel, running across it with tested patience. Over the radio, perhaps the driest radio host known to man was in talks with an Egyptian historian. They were discussing the growing issue between Egypt and the US over the damages that were suffered by Power Girl’s fight at the  Kortz Center . The exhibit  Pharaoh's Riches –  A journey through the Egyptian dynasties had been hosted in the  Moseley Building which had suffered the most damage in the fight. 

The duo droned on and on about slabs of rock and millennia-old pieces of metal. Going over a seemingly never-ending list of individuals, museums, and even universities from Egypt that had all united under a single banner, demanding justice. Andrew scoffed. People could have died. People did die. Brave men in uniform stood their ground against that beast and paid with their lives. Power Girl did what she could because she is far nobler than these morons could comprehend. She didn’t see the foul and savage beasts that needed to be put down. She saw beyond that. As these two experts sat in the comfort of their studio casting judgment left and right, Power Girl wrestled in the literal sense with a dilemma neither of them was willing or even able to tackle. 

Andrew turned off the radio and sighed, cheeks puffed, “Alright. I’ll- I’ll just have to show them. The pen is mightier than the sword after all.”

A beat passed. His bravado cracked as the first tears watered his eyes, “God… what am I to tell  Alexandra ?”

* * *

“This is so cool, you know?” Terra couldn’t stop smiling as she sat on top of her boulder.

Power Girl, who was flying slightly ahead glanced over her shoulder, “Take it nice and easy, kid.”

The two of them were out working their beat as it was called. Graceful at a decent pace, they cruised between the buildings just above the streetlights. A lulled quiet filled the night even though they were in the middle of the city. The air, although chilled, had a soothing and refreshing touch to it and not the bite Terra had expected. Now and then, she caught tidbits of voices over the traffic. People below stopped and looked up, commenting and pointing. Terra peeked over the edge of her boulder, a beaming smile across her face as her hand waved with unashamed enthusiasm. Power Girl, on the other hand, kept her greetings to the bare minimum. She acknowledged some with a quick nod or a flick of her wrist, but for the most part, remained focused on her duty. Since Power Girl wanted Terra to prioritize school, homework, and rest, it had left them with the so-called graveyard shift. Though curiously enough they didn’t hang much around actual graveyards as the name would suggest. Moreover, Terra would only attend the first half of the shift. 

She stopped, straightening herself as she did. A finger pressed against her ear, “Dispatch, this is PG. Go ahead.”

Terra tried not to squeal, but Power Girl was so cool while she was on duty. The whole no BS, total pro attitude? She had it down like locked down tight. 

“Copy that dispatch, we’ll head there now. Dispatch wants us to have a look at a ten-fifty-five. It's just a few blocks from here.”

Terra started counting on her fingers, “Ten... ten-fifty-five. That's uh, hang on, hang on. I know this. It's, it’s-”

“Hurry up kid or I'll leave you behind,” Power Girl called from down the street, hovering over an intersection.

“Ah! Wait for meeee!”

They picked up speed as soon as they rounded the corner with Power Girl up front. Racing straight down a couple of blocks, Power Girl suddenly stopped on a dime. It took Terra by such surprise that she almost crashed into her. At the last second, she managed to twist the massive rock underneath her away, using the sharp turn to shave off most of its momentum. An uneasy chuckle slipped through her shallow and rapid breathing as Power Girl shot her a quick disapproving sideways glance. Two flicks of her wrist showed that this was their street and she shot ahead. Terra tightened her grip on the boulder and lugged it forward, using its mass to gain the initial momentum. With one hand on the speed and the other ready on the break as it were, Terra hung after a good two hundred or so feet behind Power Girl. As soon as she cut around a corner, Terra pushed hard on the breaks which gave her enough control over her rock to make the sharp turns required. 

She remained focused on Power Girl’s flickering red cape up ahead, so focused that she didn’t quite see where she was or where she was going. Over the howling wind, she caught tidbits of screeching tires, a roaring engine, and honking car horns. On a long straight stretch of road, Terra took glances off Power Girl and down to the road below and in front of her. A car wobbled and cut in and out of its lane at high speed, though for some reason Power Girl didn’t seem to do anything about it. She merely kept on its tail. Terra's mouth formed a thin, straight line as she sank and surged ahead. Coming up on the side of the car, it whirred into her boulder before spiraling over to the opposite side of the street where it came to a sudden stop.

“Oh no,” her rock scraped against the sidewalk. It hadn’t even come to a complete stop before Terra hopped off it and headed for the car. “Oh no, no, no, no, no. I didn’t mean to-”

Power Girl hit the ground right in front of her like a bolt of lightning. Even the ground itself shuddered from the impact. It all happened so fast that Terra couldn’t stop in time and crashed into her. Power Girl didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. The glare in her eyes was screaming enough as it was. Pivoting on her heel, Power Girl stomped off towards the car before Terra could get in as much as a sound. She scrambled back on her feet; a dozen apologies at the ready though all of them swelled up at the back of her throat. 

The car itself was rather banged up; dents and scratched-up paint job were plenty and scattered about the length of the vehicle. Some old and worn, some new and fresh. A couple of windows had split up into thousands of little shards, some spilled out on the street that glittered under the streetlight. Even the front window had a big spiderweb-shaped crack in it where its compact threads had turned most of the window white as snow. Power Girl tried the door on the driver's side, though it would not budge. With a sharp breath, she punctured her fingers into the metal and tore the whole door off its frame. A shudder ran over Terra’s shoulders as Power Girl discarded the door with a poorly hidden frustration. But like a flick of a switch, her mood shifted as she spoke, “Ma’am? Ma'am, are you alright? Can you hear me?”

An African American woman straightened from the deflated airbag that engulfed her face. Aside from a nosebleed that dripped down on her fast-food uniform, she looked alright to Terra. Perks for wearing her seatbelt. She blinked at the two of them with a dazed, confused look, “Wat happened?”

Power Girl glanced over at Terra, “You had an accident ma’am. You really shouldn’t be drinking and driving. What's your name, ma’am?”

“...Stacy... hey, you dat lady on the news.”

“Yes, I am. Just sit tight, we’ll get you an ambulance.” She stood up, “Call it in kid.”

Terra snapped to attention, “Who? Me?”

“No. Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer. Of course, I mean you,” she snapped her fingers impatiently a couple of times. 

“Dispatch, this is, uh, Terra. Terra speaking, h-how copy?”

“Go head, Terra.”

“We, uhm, we got that ten... ten, ten-fifty-five... and, uh... we need,” she covered the radio, “what’s the code? I-I don’t know the code.”

“Ten-fifty and ten-eighty-five. Looks like we'll probably need a tow truck as well.”

“Tow truck... that’s, uh, oh, oh I know that one. Ten-ten.... urgh, ten-fifty-one, right?!”

Power Girl gave her a few short nods as if silently saying yes, yes, very good. Now get on with it.

Terra cleared her throat and made her best serious, capable officer of the law voice impression, “Dispatch, we’ve got a ten-fifty on our hands here. So, if you’d be so kind to send a ten-eight-five and ten-fifty-one our way, it’d be much appreciated.”

“Solid copy Terra.”

Some five minutes later and an ambulance arrived on the scene. As the paramedics tended to Stacy, Power Girl pulled Terra down a small side street, “I’ll ask only once; what were you thinking?”

“I uh, uhm...” she fidgeted with her hands, glancing around as if the answer was somehow lying on the ground or hung on the wall.

“Answer me!”

Terra jolted to attention and blurted out, “I didn’t! I'm sorry. I, I just- I just wanted to help...”

Power Girl nodded slowly as if her suspicion got confirmed. After a moment she asked, “What’s a ten-fifty-five?”

Her shoulders slumped, “I... I don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember or don’t know?”

“I do! I do know. I spent all last night memorizing them. It's just-” Terra gestured with her arms, “so many things happened so fast all at once. We were flying, then stopping, then hovering...”

“A ten-fifty-five is a drunken driver. It's why I kept my distance, so I could look at the situation and find the best possible timing to stop the car without anyone getting hurt.”

“Yeah but, y’know... she wasn’t that badly hurt, was she?”

Power Girl inhaled and exhaled, shaking her head slightly as she did, “Come with me kid.”

By now the tow truck had arrived and was in full swing to hoist the damaged car on top of its flatbed. Power Girl held on to Terra’s shoulder as she pointed at the car, “Look at it. What does it tell you?”

She squinted at the car as if that would somehow reveal a hidden truth about it. Though as far as she could tell, there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. Her jaw set as she steeled herself for Power Girl’s response, “I... I don’t get it. It's just a car. It's not a Ferrari or whatever.”

“Exactly.”

“Huh? That’s it? I got it right? On the first go?”

“It’s not a Ferrari. It was in poor shape even before it slid off the road and crashed. Stacy probably doesn’t have much capital. Riding an ambulance isn’t cheap. She’ll probably walk off those injuries after a week or so, though that ambulance bill might haunt her for years.”

“How am I supposed to know all that?!”

Power Girl let out an exasperating sigh, “Talk to the person for one. Weren’t you listening to any of the small talk I had with Stacy? Do you remember anything about that woman aside from her name?”

“No... but I-”

She started talking over her shoulder as she walked, “If you’d paid attention, you’d known that she’s been working at a convenience store and managed to save just a little bit of money before moving into the city. About how her dad lived in a bottle, how her mom went off and left him. Apparently, she wanted more from life than he could give. So, Stacy quit school just to take care of him. Her boyfriend couldn’t get a job and she worked herself to the bone in hopes of getting promoted.”

“Slow down, could you- could you please slow down? Isn't this a bit, y’know, much on the first night?”

Power Girl stopped abruptly, “Look kid... at the very least you could have shown some initiative and called in a ten-twenty-seven and a ten-twenty-eight with dispatch; check the d river’s license or identification and the vehicle registration. But you didn’t even do that.”

“...I’m sorry... but you could have said something. Right...?”

She shook her head, “Not much point in testing you if I keep giving you the answers. Look, you didn’t do anything wrong in the strictest sense. It's just... you could have done better. Come on kid, let's get you home and in bed.”

* * *

“It looks rather promising, doesn’t it?” Karen’s palms and face pressed against the glass.

“Yes, it does. Our engineers are both impressed and baffled at how refined the manufacturing instructions coming from StarrWARE Labs are,” Mr. Kord said while signing off a paper.

Karen looked up at the tall ceiling in the Kord Industries manufacturing floor, catching hold on her hardhat to keep it from falling off. It was a far cry from the super factories overseas and as such it had limited production capacity. Worker rights, benefits, unions, higher wages, and a host of other factors also added to the economic equation. But as eager as Karen was to get the goods out on the market to help improve people’s lives, it was also important to her that the entire process was clean. It’d leave a bitter taste in her mouth if she knew people involved in the process were exploited. Not to mention offset the net good the final product brought to the world. Patience is a virtue. One that Karen was learning to embrace.

“Look, while I appreciate your invitation, Mr. Kord, I doubt you invited me over just to see your toys in action.”

He leaned in closer, “Sorry? I didn’t catch that?”

“I said-” she started, only for her words to drown as machinery reared up, doing whatever. Mr. Kord smiled sheepishly and shrugged. He gestured towards a small office tucked away in a corner.

The simple wooden door put up a valiant effort to keep the loud manufacturing floor out. Mr. Kord made a face as he pulled out his earplugs, “Sorry. Uh, you were saying?”

“Your invitation is appreciated, but you didn’t get me over here in person just to show off your toys.”

“Right,” he removed his hardhat and protective goggles. “ There’s this issue we keep running into. Our PR department really struggles to find a way around StarrWARE’s… reputation.”

“Ah… that.”

Mr. Kord raised his hands, “Now let me be clear, don’t get it twisted. I’m on your side, Ms. Starr. You and your company were cleared of charges. That’s good enough for my book.”

“But in the eyes of everyone else, I’m guilty.”

He took a seat, rubbing his hands as he spoke, “I wouldn’t go that far. But yeah, the hushed whispers and quiet muttering is there the moment your name comes up.”

Her hands squeezed into fists , “So. What does your PR team suggest? Change the name of the companies?”

“It’s an option. Regardless of what we do, something must be done. We simply cannot get eyes on our product because it’s so closely associated with you. But, it’s your company. Your choice.”

She gave a half shrug before pacing around in the small office, “A name change… I don’t know. The way I see it, that’s more along the lines of running away. Sweeping something nasty under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Mr. Kord nodded in agreement, “It’s expensive too. I don’t know how much capital you have at your disposal, but…”

“Not much. StarrWARE labs have bled me dry. Money is dripping in alright. But that’s all that it is doing. Dripping.”

He made a steeple of  his fingers , “How about a joint charity event? As a promotional stunt?”

Karen mulled it over in her head for a moment, “We are helping the lame to walk with our exoskeleton, so yeah. I can see how that could work.”

“I have some favors I could cash in that should help get the ball rolling.”

She smiled, “Look at you, shaking hands with the Vinewood celebrity elite.”

“Elite is stretching it, but yeah…” Mr. Kord shrugged.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

* * *

A lawnmower’s engine grumbled loud and clear, leaving behind a smelly trail of cut grass. Last week's rain was not only a thing of the past, the weather report had promised increasingly bluer skies for this and the following week. The students of Atlee’s school wasted no time to get outside and catch some fresh air as well as bask in the sun during their lunch break. She navigated through the crowded outdoors lunch in hand, occasionally standing on her toes to get her bearings. Connor and several of his classmates were chilling over by some trees, goofing around as one of them plucked on a guitar. Atlee inhaled sharply and hugged her lunch close before approaching them, “Uh, Connor?”

“Mm? Oh, hi Atlee. What's up?” he squinted in the sun.

“I was wondering if, you know, if- if I could join you guys?”

Smiling, Connor shrugged, “Fine by me. The more the merrier.”

Light as a feather, Atlee plopped herself down on the grass close to Connor. Jeff, the so-called guitarist, missed a note which prompted a chuckle through the group. He jokingly complained about critics and something about how they couldn’t possibly comprehend his musical brilliance. Atlee smiled, though refrained from laughing. At every chance she got, she stole glances at Connor. But at the slightest hint that he might look her way, she’d swiftly look at her lunchbox instead.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked.

“Huh?” the word came out almost like a hic-up. “Oh- uh, yeah. Yeah, of course. It's just- you know, kinda stuck. The lid that is.”

“Really? Can I have a look?”

“Sure. Be my guest,” she handed him the box and somehow she didn’t squeal like a lovestruck pig when their fingers touched.

While Connor tried to open the lid, Atlee clenched her fist in celebration of this minor, yet vital victory. Harvesting the fruits of yesterday’s teamwork was nothing short of fantastic. Together with Karen and Ted the three of them had put their heads together to give Atlee some solid head start. Step one was getting some sort of icebreaker setup. Ted had suggested he’d cook Atlee school lunch and she could use that to get a conversation-starting. According to him, going through the stomach was a safe and well-travel route to a man’s heart. While Karen shared his sentiment, she was quick to point out that it was Atlee that was going to woo Connor, not Ted. The food and stomach approach was all good and dandy, though it felled a tad short since it wasn’t Atlee’s cooking. So, in addition to the cooking, Karen had taken the lid of the lunch box and given it a bit of a close. Extra solid edition. Or at least enough to get Connor to show off his manly and gentleman side by helping a girl out. The important thing was to avoid having a single icebreaker. Instead, it’d be better to have what Karen called a branching narrative. Several conversational doors which Atlee could pick and choose from as the situation dictated. Box open? Shower him with gratitude and offer to repay the favor. Box stuck? Ask to borrow lunch money, which she’d promptly repay and open for further chats down the line.

“Son of a-” Connor gritted his teeth while he struggled with the lid. “Did your mom weld this thing shut or what? Jeeeeesus Christ.”

“I don’t think she used heat vision on it.”

His face contorted and grew a shade red, “Huh? What was that?”

She shook her head, “No. Nothing. But really, don’t worry about it. I'll work something out.”

“Hang on, I- I think I almost got it,” he rubbed his hand on his jeans while giving her a sheepish smile. “Sweat makes it hard to get a grip. Round two. Fight!”

The built-up tension popped free as the lid jerked off with a clack. Connor frantically secured the box to save its content from spilling, “Whew... there you go. Mm mm... smells good and looks great.”

“Thanks, Connor, you’re like, you know, a lifesaver.”

“Happy to help. Say, is your mom a chef or som- Tina! Excuse me, two sec,” Connor grabbed something from his backpack and headed over to Tina with a light spring to his feet.

Atlee looked after him longingly, a bashful smile curved her lips. Connor handed Tina something wrapped in colorful paper with swirly ribbons. She accepted it with a smile and although Atlee couldn’t quite make out what it was, her jaw almost hit her lap at what came next. Tina and Connor hugged and kissed. For a moment the world seemed to freeze solid, Atlee gaping for a good eternity and a half. When she came to her senses, she stumbled to regain her composure. Surely there was a mistake, something that she didn’t know of. Perhaps it was just custom? Like a handshake? Or maybe, just maybe the two of them were related? Like siblings or cousins? A special greeting on special occasions between siblings. That had to be it, right?

“Awh, get a room you two,” Jeff chuckled.

Connor shrugged, his arm hung around Tina’s waist, “You’re just salty because you lost the bet. Second anniversary, right on the dot.”

Jeff scoffed and chuckled, “Hey man. You got it all twisted. Unlike you, I'm single and ready to mingle. Chicks dig that.”

Connor had some reply, though Atlee didn’t hear it. Staring at her lunch, the box was so massive and heavy in her hands. The colors of the dish melded and flowed together as tears welled up in her eyes. Her breathing grew shallow, a sharp and burning pain in her chest kept her from taking full, deep breaths. A ball kept growing inside her, swelling to grotesque proportions, pressing and squeezing against her timid frame. Biting down on her lower lip almost to the point of drawing blood only acted as an emergency vent far too small for the ravaging internal pressure.

“Atlee? You okay?” Connor bent down to try to get a better look at her face.

“Y-yah,” her voice cracked and snapped. With all due haste, she scrambled to secure enough of her composure to continue. Her makeshift solution strained under the effort, “Ju-just got, you know, some- so-some uuuuh.... dust. Yeah, dust in my eye.”

Something approached her. Whether it was Connor’s face or his hand, she couldn’t tell. Either way, she had to get away. Far away. Fast. Faster and further than her legs could carry her. To the ends of the earth preferably. A firm slap closed her lunch box and she muttered some sort of apology before shooting up and leaving with a rigid and strong stride. Onwards she walked, one step faster than the previous. Air crossed over and through clenched teeth, dragged in with a sharp and chilling inhale. The world got a little clearer once she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. Behind her, Connor called her name. She could hear that he was getting closer. 

Her web cast itself across the road. Like a well-trained muscle, it coiled itself around a boulder whose tip barely stuck up from the earth. Latching on with a firm grip and yanking it out of the ground was second nature. Practically muscle memory. Atlee wanted to getaway. Her powers were more than happy to comply. She stepped up on the big rock, still in a lost daze. Connor's voice wasn’t there anymore. Or maybe it was, just lost in the rattle of the crowd, the honking cars. With a flick of her wrist, the boulder hoisted itself up in the air, shooting towards the coast like a speeding bullet.


	13. The truth about love

The door opened with a bang. Chilled air, ripe with the smell of the sea was a welcomed change from the stuffed, warm air found inside. Karen’s teeth found the Velcro on her glove and ripped it open. Sweat glinted across her forearm. Her breath was ragged and for a moment the world swayed around her before it stabilized itself. While Karen’s bones felt heavy, the joints moved like a freshly and well-oiled machine. There was a subtle ache to her muscles. But strangely enough, in a good kind of way. A light breeze darted down along the side of her yacht; its invisible fingers ran across Karen’s shorts. The sweat that tickled down along her thick, muscular thigs made the fabric stick. She swallowed a mouthful of air. A chuckle escaped her as she leaned heavily on the railing.

“Told ya I wouldn’t go easy on ya,” Ted called from inside.

Their sparring matches had become a regular thing. Two, three hours almost every day. It was less about raw power and more on technique, precision, discipline, and control. As such, Karen eased back whenever she approached the  _ gearshift _ that allowed her to tap into her superhuman strength. It took her back to the days of working out together with  Vernon . Instead of her usual twice as bright, half as long approach Karen wanted to master the half as bright, twice as long mindset. Though it started to dawn on her that the road to mastery would be a long one. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, “Yeah, yeah… just what I asked of you, Ted. How are you holding up?”

“I might be past my prime, but,” he rolled his shoulder, “this old cat still got some bite in ‘im.”

Karen took in the sight of him. For the first time in all the years, she’d know him, Ted looked so alive. While Ted had always had this peaceful happiness to him whenever he was in the kitchen, Karen had noticed quiet hints of nostalgia in his eyes. It usually came if he thought no one was watching and his hands weren’t busy. Things had been awkward between the two of them the following weeks after the incident with Pel. Ted had gone to therapy, which had helped some. Even so, the quiet happiness he so often wore on his sleeve was dimmed. Karen couldn’t say how he acted while she was away and the yacht was charted out to whoever was paying. But she never received any complaints. On the food or crew behavior for that matter. 

She grinned at him and as she was about to speak up, a heavy splash rose from the sea before spreading salty seawater all over Karen and the deck. Busy feet sprinted down the wet deck before a figure darted inside. Ted rushed up to her, eyes wide, “Are ya alright? What in darnation was that?”

“Atlee…” Karen’s voice grumbled about it as she plucked seaweed from her hair. Seeing how Ted shrunk back, she gave him an assuring smile, “It’s alright. I’ll talk to her.”

As Karen traversed through the hallways of her yacht, she left behind a wet trail as fresh seawater dripped off her immense frame. Her stride was stern and firm. Brows drew together as she approached Atlee’s cabin. Hitomi passed her by, clutching a batch of fresh towels, “Ma’am I-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. It’s all right, I’ll talk to her,”  she said as she gave a dismissive wave of her hand .

Two solid knocks on the door and she opened it. Light from the hallway window spilled into the dark cabin. The door slammed shut behind her. A pack of shadows pounced Karen as she crossed her strong arms across her chest. Chin raised, a glare in her eye she said, “Atlee, what was that all about? Why did you throw a- a boulder at the yacht? You could have damaged it. Or worse, people could have been hurt because of your reckless behavior.”

“Go away,” Atlee’s voice was coarse and crude.

Karen’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. Tucked away in a corner behind the bed she spotted the top back of Atlee’s head. From the looks of it, she was hugging her legs close and buried her face into her knees. Sharp sniffs and subtle scraped up against the stillness of the cabin. Karen’s rigid posture softened. With a crude yet swift ripping sound, she removed her boxing gloves. Rounding the bed, Karen tossed them aside, “Atlee? Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just go away.”

“I see… well, I’ll just,” Karen eased down on the floor a little distance away, “sit down over here so you’re not alone with your nothingness.”

Two of them sat there together in the dark silence. Time lost its tangible self. Between her own smell of sweat and seawater, Karen caught subtle hints of perfume. A soft, flowery smell. Studying the bundled-up ball that as Atlee, she noticed a few things as the shadows whispered their dark secrets. The nail polish glinted and sparkled like dim stars in the night sky. Underneath the strands of pitch-black hair, Karen could barely steal a glance of a clip-on earring. Although it was hard to make out the exact colors, Atlee’s clothes looked to be carefully coordinated. Her stockings were torn in a few places. Small patches of dirt hung around the edges of her skirt. 

Atlee shifted around, opening up. Her eyes were wet with tears. Streams of half-dried tears covered the length of her cheeks. She bit down on her lower lip as their eyes met. By the looks of it, there were at least three dozen thoughts and feelings wreaking havoc inside her. As much as it’d hurt to put those things into words, the silence proved suffocating. A weak, almost pathetic little smile crossed her lips as Atlee shrug and said, “Turns out Connor already had a girlfriend. Who knew, right?”

“Atlee… I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m glad someone is. Everyone at school got a good laugh.”

Karen grimaced, “Ah, that’s just nasty.”

“I know right?!” Atlee’s voice trembled. She bit down to keep another round of tears from flowing, “It’s just… it’s not fair!”

Karen didn’t say anything. She just sat there, listening to Atlee’s rant. After several minutes, it simmered down to a broken voice, snot, and tears. Ugly crying was never a pretty sight, but as far as Karen was concerned; it was good for the soul. In the end, Atlee chuckled to herself as she said, “Is this like, you know, the truth?”

“ Oh, you want the truth? ” Karen took a deep breath. “ The truth about love is it's nasty and salty .  It's the regret in the morning, it's the smelling of armpits .  Its wings, and songs , a nd trees, and birds .  It's all the poetry that you ever heard .”

She started to count on her fingers, “ Terror coup d’état .  Lifeline forget-me-nots .  It's the hunt and the kill .  The schemes and the plots .  The truth about love is its blood and its guts .  Purebreds and  bitches.  Sandwiches without the crust .”

“ It takes your breath because it leaves a scar ,” Karen scoffed. “ But  from what I’ve seen,  those untouched never got never got very far .”

She spread out her arms, as if rolling out a grand map of the universe, “ It's rage and it's hate with  a sick twist of fate . You meet someone and go;  _ I think this guy may be perfect. _ You're the person of my  dreams .  I've never ever been this happy .  But  then something  changes.  I thought you were the one, but I hate goodbyes . Yet here we are.  It hurts inside the hurt within, and i t folds together pocket thin, and the angels' lips whisper it , and i t can turn you into a bitch .”

Atlee sniffed, “So why then, you know, bother at all?”

“That answer varies greatly depending on who you ask, but for me…” she glanced up at the ceiling. “The way I see it, this life is all that I’ve got. All I’ll ever get. I’d like to share it with someone.”

“I don’t get it…”

“To be perfectly honest with you Atlee, I don’t think anyone truly does,” Karen said with a shrug. “Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual. We’re all learning and writing the rules as we go.”

* * *

Minor radio chatter and some bleeping instruments tickled against the professional calm that filled the bridge. Everything was in order, not as much as a pencil was out of place. Rose clutched onto the envelope in her hand. She shrunk down as if making herself small would allow her to pass through without disturbing the delicate order. Off by the map of the state coastline stood Captain Sato, her face tranquil, yet serious. Her pencil twirled and dashed over the notepad with confidence. Even when she made a mistake, she didn’t lose her stride. Rather she swiftly erased it and carried on. The only thing that didn’t match her dedication to duty and responsibility was a subtle touch of perfume. Without looking up she said, “Good day Ms. Tremens. You have something for me?”

Rose inhaled sharply, “Uh yes. I, uh... here. This- this is my resignation. I formally quit as...”

Captain Sato took the envelope, a sympathetic smile curved her lips, “Thank you, Ms. Tremens. I hate to see you go; it’s been a pleasure working with you. I wish you all the best in your future endeavors.”

“Yes, yes,” a blush crept up, setting the tip of her ears on fire. “Pleasure- likewise Captain.”

“Here,” she offered Rose an envelope, “a letter of recommendation. Hopefully, it’ll help open some doors for you once you’ve graduated.”

The first tears were already starting to blur her vision, “Thank you.”

“Well now, Mr. Steele has gone to prepare the dingy. Let's not keep him waiting.”

Rose nodded, “Thank you, Captain. For everything.”

“You’re welcome. Godspeed Rose.”

She made her way back to the stern where the whole crew save Captain Sato were waiting. The night before they'd thrown a goodbye party for her, so all that remained was to say their goodbyes, exchange contact information, and promise to stay in touch. Sentimental and cheesy lines sat fast and loose, as did happy tears. The weather was fantastic, the sea as calm without being eerily quiet. Off in the distance, delighted shrieks carried on the wind as the roller coaster on Del Perro Pier raced along its tracks. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, a tall shadow loomed over Rose. She looked up, a towering silhouette almost blocked out the sun completely, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it off, laugh it off. Look at that, the lady of the boat carrying the luggage.”

“Ms. Starr, you made it!”

“Of course, I did Rose, wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she put down the heavy bag and suitcase.

Rose buried herself in Ms. Starr’s warm and safe embrace. Basking in her warmth, the soothing rolling of the sea she almost started dozing off as a hand, strong yet gentle patted her head. How long they stood like this, she could not tell. A minute? A lifetime? It was beside the point, as long as it didn’t end. When Ms. Starr’s arms started to peel away, like a blooming flower, Rose pulled her close. Without Ms. Starr close, a chill bit into her even though the sun was high in the sky, bright as ever. It wasn’t too late. She could just stay here, with Ms. Starr. It was safe here, warm and familiar. 

“Rose... look at me.”

She looked up; Ms. Starr’s face was a blurry mess through the tears.

“It’s time. You've got to go.”

“...I... uh, Ms. Starr, I...”

Ms. Starr’s voice was soft, soothing like a tender lullaby, “You’ll be okay Rose. I know you will. You're a bright young woman with her whole life ahead of her. You have a dream, follow it. It's okay to be scared. Big dreams usually are. But don’t settle for just dreams and mirages. Make them a reality.”

“But, but...”

“Ah, ah, aaah,” she waggled her finger at Rose. “No buts. No goodbyes. I'll see you around, okay?”

Her lips quivered; tears trickled without restrain down her cheeks. Somehow, she managed to nod. Ms. Starr wouldn’t leave her behind. If there ever was something, she’d come flying. Faster than a speeding bullet, eager and willing to help however she could. All the shelter and nurture she’d provided up to this point was precisely so that Rose could one day stand tall and proud on her own two feet. The world was as beautiful as it was horrifying, its people as kind as they were cruel. Alone, it would have broken Rose a long time ago. It almost did. But she was no longer alone and together with her friends, there was no mountain too tall, no ocean too deep. Daunting and challenging? Yes. But conquerable nonetheless. 

Rose cracked a smile, one of courage, “Yes!”

* * *

“Dispatch, this is Terra. We're ten-twenty-three. PG is ten-twenty-six. Please stand by for a ten-twenty-eight, over.”

“Ten-four Terra. Anytime you’re ready.”

While Terra put down her boulder, Power Girl held on to a squirming young couple; one in each hand. Though they both trashed around and tried to pull free, Power Girl barely budged. The boy was particularly feisty and tore his t-shirt to get free. Though at the sound of tearing fabric, Power Girl was quick to secure another grip. This time, she latched on to his wrist and locked it down tight, “Quit resisting. Both of you. Now!”

Squatting by the dirt bike, Terra examined it for a license plate, “Hmm... a GP-450 Sanchez, but no plate. Power Girl, I’d say this bike is potentially stolen. Found any ID on them yet?”

“Kinda have my hands full,” she shoved the girl upfront. “Here, you talk to her while me and Twilight here will have a nice little chat. Stop. Squirming.”

“Okay. Right, this way ma’am. You're being detained for questioning, do you understand?”

“The hell are you? You’re just a kid, aren’t ya?”

Terra peeled off some rocks from her boulder and used them to wrap the young woman’s hands together in a pair of stony mittens, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time. Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present?”

The woman scoffed, “This is rich...”

“Ma’am, do you understand your rights?”

“Yeah, yeah...” she held up her hands. “This is new. How'd you...?”

“Do you have any ID on you?” Terra shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah. Like, back pocket. Right side, wallet.”

Tapping her index and middle finger on her boulder, Terra wrapped rock around them which extended their reach and shaped their tips into a pair of tweezers.  She ran the ID with dispatch and got back a record of criminal charges. For the most part, it was small stuff, but sadly Terra could see a pattern of escalation. Pity too for the young woman only a few years older than herself. Removing her makeshift tweezers, she said, “Robbing ATMs, is that what you do to pass the time these days?”

She averted her eyes, “He needed the money. And a lookout.”

“You know, uh, Britney… this isn’t good. If you keep this up, you’ll get locked up for a long, long time.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Britney glanced over at her partner. “But don’t you get it? I guess a kid like you doesn’t, but the thing is… I can’t just leave him.”

Terra raised an eyebrow, “He’s that great, huh?”

“No,” she let out a chuckle. “ He is a hustler, he's no good at all .  He is a loser, a bum .  He lies, he bluffs, he's unreliable . A sucker with a gun too. You’ll tell  me I should stay away , that  he's just a dog astray . And sure, h e is a bad boy with a tainted heart And even I know this ain't  the  smart est thing in the world.”

“Then why?”

Britney shrugged, half a smile curved her cracked lip, “ I'm in love with a criminal . It’s the type of love  that  isn't rational, it's physical . Don’t sweat it though , I will be alright .”

“No. Just no,” Terra shook her head. “You’re not, you know, alright. Not now and the longer you stick with that guy, the worse it’s going to get.”

If she could, she’d probably spread her hands out, “He’s  got my name t attooed on his arm .  His lucky charm .  So I guess it's OK as long as h e's with me .”

“No this is- do you even hear what you’re-,” Terra cut herself off, her accusing finger left hanging in the air. “Did you say gun?”

Britney scoffed, “…yeah.”

Her wrist flicked, a fistful of rock cracked free from her boulder and wrapped itself around one of Britney’s ankles. As soon as it was secured, Terra jogged away, “Stay put. Power Girl. Gun!”

“What? You mean this?” she held a revolver up.

“Oh good, you found it before- before, you know, anyone got hurt.” Terra sucked in a sharp breath when she noticed the young man was bleeding from his nostrils, “Why is he bleeding?”

“Mm? Resisted arrest.”

“Did he pull the gun on you or something?”

“Nope. That fell out of his pants because he didn’t want to stand still.”

Terra looked back and forth between Power Girl and the man, “So… he was just trying to wiggle free?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Power Girl, that’s no reason to hit someone. Especially you of all people.”

She went poker-faced, “Now kid, why’d you go and say something like that? Hm?”

“Because, you know, it’s not like your run-of-the-mill human stand a chance against your strength. He can’t get free. Unless he tears his arm off or something.”

Power Girl was about to speak up but stopped herself as a police cruiser arrived on the scene. She greeted the officer with a slight nod, “ Sgt. Whitfield .”

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? Can’t be a faggot now, can it? I see you’re a man of fine taste, sir. But it’s a rookie mistake to get a nosebleed just ‘cause you get some titties to look at.”

“Wade…” the word barely managed to squeeze itself out from Power Girl’s clenched teeth. “Shut. Up.”

Wade cleared his throat, his head bobbed a few times apologetically, “Yes ma’am.”

“He’s bleeding because Power Girl hit him.”

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks. If it weren’t for the chatter on the police radio, one would be able to hear a pin drop. Wade and his partner, Stewart with his six feet and three hundred or something pounds, exchanged glances and swallowed. After a couple of unusually long seconds, Wade mustered to speak up, “Yeah, well the thing is- we gotta keep these folks in line, y’know? You’re new, I get it. Still wet behind the ears and all that. But you got to trust your seniors, yeah? They lead, you follow.”

“Kid, release the girl. Officer Stewart, if you’d please.”

Stewart got his handcuffs ready and approached Britney, though Terra didn’t move an inch, “Wait. You’re just going to drop it? She-”

“Kid,” there was a chilled, hard edge to Power Girl’s tone. “Release the girl.”

“This is bullshit and you know it. All of you know it.”

“Language…”

Terra’s face contorted with frustration, “Oh my…! You know what? Forget it. Here, free as a bird. Are ya happy now?!”

Power Girl crossed her arms and shrugged, “Could have done without the drama, but yes. I’m happy. Not as happy as can be, but I’ll take what I get.”

“This is not over. I’ll be sure to mention this in my report. Count on it, Power Girl.”

“So you’re finally going to do the paperwork on your own now, are you? Well, look at you, all grown up. Come on kid, we’re still on the clock.”

* * *

The hustle and bustle of the city faded into the background buzz of the police reception area as Power Girl and Terra made their entrance, “Do you see her?”

“See her?” Terra stood up on her toes for a better view. “I don’t know what she looks like.”

“Huh? I thought- you haven’t met Janessa yet?”

She shrugged, “Dunno. Met a lot of people. So many that it’s kinda a blur. Is that her?”

“No... I'm afraid not. Where in the- ah, there she is,” Power Girl pointed out an extremely attractive, African American female with long, black hair and regal features from the crowd. She looked to be in her early thirties. She was considered a plainclothes officer among her peers, and as usual, she was dressed professionally but very stylishly and fashionably, “Janessa, long time no see. Got your message, what’s up?”

“Power Girl. Looking fine and strong as per tradition. Right this way,” she led them into a side office and closed the door behind them. “You’re- you’re Terra, right?”

“Uh-huh, that’s me,” there was a touch of pride to her reply. Power Girl gave her a little nudge with her elbow, to which Terra promptly offered Janessa a handshake.

“Is she...?” Janessa looked to Power Girl for some help.

“She’ll be fine. If nothing else, she can pick up a thing or two by watching us in action. What was it that you wanted to discuss?”

Janessa laid out the subject at hand. The vice squad had been working together with other precincts for the better part of a year and a half to catch a new gang calling themselves Reapers who pushed drugs. It had been frustrating work, playing essentially an adult version of whack a mole. Lately, however, they got a tip of a cornerstone in the Reaper’s operation. There was this rundown liquor store called Liquor Ace on Algonquin Boulevard in Sandy Shores. This is where the bulk of their drugs got made. A known criminal with a record as long as a bad year named Trevor Philips had wrestled the store away from the Varrios Los Aztecas in a bloody shootout. With the local authorities too ill-equipped to deal with the situation, Trevor offered his services to the Reapers. Janessa sighed, “And that’s where you come in.”

“You guys need a battling ram.”

“Pretty much. This Trevor fellow is bad news. About as bad as they come. We could really use someone as strong as a locomotive. And being bulletproof doesn’t hurt either.”

Terra’s eyes went wide, her whole face shined with amazement, “You’re bulletproof? On top of everything else?”

“Bullet resilient. Big difference,” Power Girl corrected. “How many are we talking about? Do you know what kind of weapons they’re packing?”

“From our surveillance reports, mostly just Trevor. The locals leave him the hell alone on reputation alone. During the takeover, it seemed he was using primarily an AR-15. Could be more inside though. For those close and personal encounters.”

“Shotguns,” Power Girl shook her head. “It’s always shotguns. Their operation is on the second floor?”

“Yeah. Reapers come in as legal customers and get their stash together with regular booze. Not very subtle. But at least they’re pretending.”

“Oh my gosh. This is so cool!”

Both Power Girl and Janessa looked at Terra for a moment before exchanging glances. Power Girl shook her head, “Sorry kid. You're sitting this one out.”

“What? Oh c’mon! Why?”

She let out a tested sigh, “If you’d paid any attention at all to what we’ve been talking about, this should be abundantly clear. But for the sake of clarity... once more from the top; our main obstacle is a bad man. So bad that he’s killed- how many?”

“Of the Varrios Los Aztecas?” Janessa shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Ten-twelve people tried to raid the store. Word of mouth says that of the few that made it back, died later. Blood loss, not getting help in time.”

“Charming. Point is, he’s bad news. And I don’t want you anywhere near someone of that caliber.”

Terra stomped her foot, “Ah c’mon! That's some bullshit. And you know it.”

“Language.”

Arms flailed upwards in frustration, “Hey, here’s something for you; stop treating me like a kid. All. The. Time. And maybe, just maybe- I'll, you know, grow up.”

Early hints of a glare gave Power Girl’s otherwise vibrant blue eyes a cold edge, “Patience is a virtue. And I’ll treat you like an adult when you act like one. Kid.”

“Will you- oh my gosh! Just-” Terra swallowed her words behind a groan and gritted teeth. “Can you talk some sense into this stubborn ass alien?”

“For the hundredth time, language.”

Janessa took a few steps back, “You two clearly have issues that need to be ironed out. And I want no part in it. None.”

Power Girl sighed while rubbing her temple, “Yeah. That's fair. Okay, look... Terra. Try to see it my way; I don’t think you’re ready for this kind of assignment. It's too dangerous. You're not that used to using your powers under tense situations.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “You know that no matter how much you twist and turn on it, one time has to be the first. You'll be there too, right? Not to mention the rest of, of Jenna’s friends.”

“Janessa.”

“Whatever. Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?”

Power Girl gave it a moment of thought, “No. I will not-”

“Why do you keep doing this to me? How am I supposed to-”

“Let me finish. I will not have you upfront and center. Not on this kind of op. You can, however, stay in the back. Observe. Learn. And maybe. A big maybe at that, assist if needed. What do you think, Janessa?”

She scratched her hair, “I’ve got nothing to go on but word of mouth. Terra's got the powers, but I've never seen them in action. If you’re cool with her being there Power Girl, I'm down. This here power stuff is not my thing. I trust your judgment. You've trained her, right?”

“Right. I've trained her. And... as much as I hate to admit it, she’s got a point. There's got to be a first time for everything. Might as well bite the bullet and ease you into it.”

Terra could not stop grinning even if her life depended on it, “So that’s it? I'm- I'm in?”

“You’re in. As an observer only,” Power Girl patted her on the shoulder. “Welcome on the team, Terra.”


End file.
